As the title suggests, I’ve been having a bit of a time of things since last week, hence the lack of updates, etc. I’m thankful to say that regardless of that, I have been writing, and new ideas have been flowing well.
I’m almost certain my breaking point came last night when I momentarily lost that safe little facade of stoicism on the car ride home.
Well, stoicism. More like a twig dam in a raging river.
Anyway, I lost any semblance of control over probably every single emotion I have locked up in here, and I bawled. I don’t think I’ve cried that hard in months. I mean I had a headache the size of Canada after that. I’ll say this: I’m lucky to have the husband I do. He’s the first to tell me that I need to let things out. Typical TV husbands or what have you groan at their wives’ flailing emotions. My husband encourages it.
He knows it’s not easy for me to let go.
I see the expression “sometimes you just need a good cry” and for others I think it’s great. For myself? I scoff a bit. But it /is/ true. After the sobfest, I did feel better. I’ll not go into the catalyst; it’s not necessary, it’s all parallels, I recognize it, yada yada yada. After, I spent the rest of the evening in a pretty vegetative state, doing things that put me at ease without being very social.
I still had another bawlfest later on. That catalyst was a picture I peeped on Facebook while having a much needed ciggy. Those who know me well know I hate Facebook for that very reason. I suppose it was unavoidable. Still, I didn’t need to see the picture. But I did, and I cried, and then I went to bed.
Now this morning I feel alright, though I’m sure this little episode of emotional espionage in my head isn’t quite over. Eh, I’ve been here before. I’ll find my way out again.
That makes me think of one of my favorite little motivational lines:
“The only way out is through.”
I love that. I heed that, especially weeks like this. Oddly enough, it’s not staunched my creativity. Always something to be thankful for, hm?
Ok, enough rambling. Thanks for reading me and gaining a little more insight into this mess that is my mind. Cheers.
My dreams are really telling of where my mind is with those things that never leave. Writing my novel is at the forefront of my thoughts umpteen times in a day.
One could say to me right now that I should be writing it instead of blogging about my fears, my dreams, etc.
Sure, I could be. Should be.
I often ask myself: Am I just lazy? Do I not have the proper motivation? Am I putting too much pressure on myself? Not enough pressure? Do I let others dictate the things I do?
I know I’m not lazy. I know I have the right motivations. I NEED to write this. Too much pressure? Maybe. Not enough? Maybe. Do I let others dictate what I do? Not really, though I have discussed my guilt about certain things here.
Then what is it?
If I knew, I’d be writing and not blogging about my fear.
I’ve considered posting my work on Blogger. Short things I’ve written and the like… I’m terrified to do it. Absolutely terrified.
It’s funny. I rely on the opinions of two very dear friends I allow to read my work. Both usually give me stellar reviews peppered with bouts of excited gibberish. Both stroke my ego, I’ll not lie.
I also role-play (which is writing intensive), and I’ve gotten compliments there, as well. I’ve been told my characters are well rounded, my subject matter is bang on, and have been reassured that people love to play with me.
Why am I so scared, then? Why does the thought of putting myself out there for more people to see make cold chills run up my spine? Am I THAT insecure? Maybe.
About fifteen years ago, I used to publish fanfiction online. I still have some of those pieces, and reading them now I can say without question they were pretty bad. …Still, I got some pretty great feedback and reviews on them.
I wonder what has changed. Why can’t I take that and reestablish the courage I had back then into the now? Eh.
Perhaps I’m having a momentary lapse of self-esteem. I’m not surprised at myself for it. Want to know what else I find quite hilarious?
I can sit here and blog about my deep fears and be fine with people seeing my weakness, yet I’m terrified to post my work for people to see what could possibly be something good.
Nutcase?
This blog has obviously run away from me, so I’ll end it here… and maybe get some fucking writing done. Cheers.
~M ♥
Do you want to be a writer?
Read that sentence again. I didn’t ask if you’d LIKE to be a writer. I asked if you WANT to be a writer.
Do you NEED it?
Because if you don’t, it won’t happen. Sorry.
Not too long ago, I was approached at a school event by a teacher who asked how to get published. I get asked this question a lot, and I’m certain that most published authors do as well. I advised this teacher that the only way to get published is to read a lot, and to write a lot. Yes, she countered – but how can I write a lot when I have a full-time job? I explained that I had a full-time job when I started writing myself. The trick is to MAKE the time. Perhaps you get up an hour earlier, or give up watching TV in the evening.
Oh no, she said. I could never give up watching TV.
Then, you’ll never be published.
I didn’t say it, of course – but it’s true. If you want to be a writer, you have to put the work in. If you have a job as well, you have to make the time to write. There’s no magic button, no short-cut, no person to contact who will instantly make your wishes come true.
You write, submit, get rejected, write, submit, get rejected, write, submit, get rejected, write, submit – write, submit – write, submit… You write and submit until the person who reads your submission – be it an editor, publisher, producer or agent – has absolutely no reason to reject you. Then – you’re a writer.
Does that sound harsh? Apologies if it does – but that’s how I did it. I have two filing cabinets full of rejection letters – some from my current publishers – dating back to 1986. 25 years ago. In that time I’ve had an entire acting career, worked as an electrical goods salesman, dealt with water rates accounts for customers in Hampshire, fixed computers on a tech support line, pulled pints behind many a bar – and I wrote. Every day, I wrote.
Every. Single. Day.
It didn’t matter that I had a full-time job, that I was tired, that I had other commitments. I wrote. I submitted. I was rejected. Until someone said yes.
I’ve just finished writing my 29th book that is or will be published. My Scream Street series is published in 13 countries, and we’re now working on a TV series based on the books. I have a meeting in a week or so about my next series of books. I have another TV script being considered by a major UK production company. I’m writing short stories and articles for several newspapers and magazines. I’ve been asked to pitch ideas to a computer games company.
I’m not saying any of that to boast – just to prove that it can be done. I had no industry contacts, no doorway into publishing, no secret password. I just never gave up. You can have exactly the same – and more. You just have to do the work. Put the hours in. WRITE.
I’m incredibly lucky to count at least 30 professional writers and authors among my friends, and I’ve met them all as a result of working as a writer. They’re all great people, and they ALL have one thing in common… They WANTED to be a writer, and let nothing stop them from achieving that goal.
So, how about you? Do you want to be a writer? Or, do you WANT to be a writer?
Advice? I don’t have advice. Stop aspiring and start writing. If you’re writing, you’re a writer. Write like you’re a goddamn death row inmate and the governor is out of the country and there’s no chance for a pardon. Write like you’re clinging to the edge of a cliff, white knuckles, on your last breath, and you’ve got just one last thing to say, like you’re a bird flying over us and you can see everything, and please, for God’s sake, tell us something that will save us from ourselves. Take a deep breath and tell us your deepest, darkest secret, so we can wipe our brow and know that we’re not alone. Write like you have a message from the king. Or don’t. Who knows, maybe you’re one of the lucky ones who doesn’t have to.
Enthusiasm dwindles, fatigue rises, and we begin squinting at our manuscripts, thinking, “This derivative pile of crap is my literary statement to the world?”
Everything gets better soon, trust me. You remember that jolt you felt when your characters first spoke up? Keep writing, and it will happen again. But this time, it will be your whole book rising off the page, pulsing with electricity and life. Today’s tangents will become tomorrow’s arcs, and unforeseen connections will tie up your loose ends in a way that will make you want to slap your head and holler at your accidental brilliance.
So turn off spell-check. Leave those ungainly sentences on the page, and let your punctuation be imperfect. And whatever you do, don’t read your previous day’s entire output.
Maybe you won’t be a successful novelist, or even a good one. At least you are trying. That, would you believe, puts you in a rarefied one percent of our kind. Maybe less than that. You aspire to something better than the normal rat race. You may not accomplish much, but it’s the attitude that counts. As with mutations: 99% of them are bad and don’t survive, but the 1% that are better are responsible for the evolution of species to a more fit state. You know the odds are against you, but who knows? If you don’t try, you’ll never be sure whether you might, just maybe, possibly, have done it. So you do have to make the effort, or be forever condemned in your own bleary eyes.
OH MAI GAWD!!! HOW EFFING ADORABLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KLDSFN;SLDKJFLAKSJFLK;ASJFKL;AJFL;KAJDFKLASJF;LAKJSFD
OMG, LOOK HOW CUTE! THEY ARE SO ADORABLE, THOSE BEBBES! OMG, I WANT TO GLOMP THEM AND GIVE THEM COOKIES, OMG!
♥_♥ You’re kidding me, right? I WILL EAT CHIBI!SEPHIROTH. EAT HIM WHOLE! SOMEONE GET ME A TOOTHPICK FOR THE CRUNCHY BITS, I’M GOING IN. HOOOOOOOOOMG! The Masamune is bigger than he is! LOOKIT HIS LITTLE TRENCH!!! I can’t take this level of cute. I really can’t. x_x ~ded~ ♥
#NowPlaying “Tear You Apart” by She Wants Revenge ~ This song has me riled up beyond words right now. Writing a one-shot as we speak. Just a little something I need to get on… I mean OFF my chest. ~grin~
These lyrics…
♪~
I want to hold you close Skin pressed against me tight Lie still, close your eyes girl So lovely, it feels so right
I want to hold you close Soft breath, beating heart As I whisper in your ear I want to fucking tear you apart
Have you ever disliked someone so much that you find yourself wishing them ill will? The fact that I believe in karma and the powers behind the universe forces me to err on the side of caution when thinking about those I greatly dislike.
But sometimes, the lure is unavoidable.
I try my damnedest to be fair in my mind. I’ve not walked a mile in the “target’s” shoes, nor do I know much about about the target’s personal life.
What I do know is this:
There is /never/ a reason to be an asshole when you’ve not been provoked directly.
I had a hard childhood, filled with experiences that I’d not wish on the worst of my enemies. I’ll spare the details, but needless to say that my childhood life isn’t one that I pine to relive.
But I am /not/ an asshole.
Again, because I believe in karmic forces, I would never be unkind to someone unless provoked to be so by a direct action. To use your past or your present, your experiences or your current situation as an excuse to belittle another, to be a general beast when no one has provoked it of you… that makes my strength in not shelling out ill will dwindle significantly.
I still try to be pragmatic, however. My wishes usually only consist of stubbed toes or painful hangnails.
Maybe a mishap with a bottle of hair dye.
I am not perfect. I am only human.
YOU are not perfect. YOU are only human.
Why then should we twist and turn to yield to YOUR demands, sit here and take your blindly flailed insults and misguided views on life as if it were written in law?
If the above sounds like you, I do not want to know you — at least not until you recognize what an asshole you actually are, and try to fix yourself.
A bucket load of sorry means nothing to me.
Self victimization makes me want to victimize you further, and not in a pretty way. It would be easy, no? At least, that’s how you make it look.
I’m not an asshole, but I sure as hell can be when witness to such blatant attacks against the universe as a whole. Entitlement is earned. Respect is earned.
Kindness should be free, and it’s a package deal with all those swanky things like understanding, respect, entitlement, and that general feeling that you may have made someone smile.
Being an asshole? Well, that just leaves you alone, being an asshole, whining constantly about how people don’t like you, don’t understand, blah blah wah wah barf.
The choice is yours. The choice is ALWAYS yours.
@—>—>— Now, here’s a sweet gesture to those who read this, as a great thank you, to tell you how much I appreciate your eyes on my words.
The fates themselves are chirping at me today, it seems.
“Your life seems to be undergoing rapid change and you’re thrilled with the notion of riding the currents wherever they take you. You have no idea where the tides are carrying you, yet you’re eager to head out on this great adventure, anyway. Don’t assume that you’re really ready to leave just because everything looks good. Taking your time to put everything in order now will ensure that you’ll actually reach your destination.” (VIA tarot.com)
I’ve been itching to begin a fresh, new chapter, a new phase in my WIP, though I’m not done putting in order what I have down. Call it impatience, call it impetuousness, call it what you will, but fresh words are edging at my fingertips. However, I must learn to finish one task before taking on the next. This is a flaw, and many have known it from me.
If you believe in the power of the stars, you’ll know how eye-opening this was for me to see this morning. If you don’t believe in the power of the stars, well… you still can’t deny something, somewhere in the cosmos was bang on about me.
Because /I/ can’t deny that.
I will heed your chirpings today, Uni. You’ve not failed me yet, even in those things I perceived as failures so long ago. Here’s to a productive Monday off (thank you, Canadian holidays).
Happy situating. :D
~M ♥
Welcome into the blue.
My name's Mayden Rose, and I'm an aspiring author in the Mystical/Paranormal/Supernatural Erotica genre.
I'm not a very good blogger when the blog is kind of structured, like it is on my website.
Welcome into the blue.