Hello, one and all.
Probably like a lot of people here, I'm an aspiring writer. No, no, that's not quite right. I am a writer. I aspire to be published, so I suppose I'm an aspiring author. Yes, that seems right.
But I'm in a slump. I keep writing and writing, and then I look back at what I've written and think one of these things, depending on my mood that day:
a) This is garbage. If I query an agent and get lucky and they want to see ten pages, they're going to make it to the bottom of page one and think, "well, but the pacing sucks." Start over from the beginning.
b) This is garbage, but I've wasted enough time. Just write the damn thing and move on.
c) This is garbage. I ought to give up.
d) Wow. This isn't half bad. I'm going to pomp around the apartment for a while filled with my own sense of self-worth. Damn it feels good to be a gangster. This writing thing is easy-peasy.
D rarely happens, I'll just be honest. But when it does... Those are the days. That feeling of inward validation is what keeps me going.
Right now, I'm certainly in a "c" phase. I haven't written in a week. I've got this mess of a manuscript I don't know how to fix. And one of my other writer friends, she's lovely, but she tells me she writes every single day, inspired or not. And I thought, maybe I ought to be doing that. But maybe my book, maybe that's just too much pressure right now. Maybe I need another outlet where I can vent my creativity and build up the ol' metaphorical callouses on my fingers.
But maybe that won't make me a better writer, I think.
Then again, maybe it will.
So here I am, kind roleplayers of the world. I'm here to join you, at least for a while. Please, take me under your wing. I was a roleplayer once, and I'm a wordsmith forever. So let's go on an adventure.
Probably like a lot of people here, I'm an aspiring writer. No, no, that's not quite right. I am a writer. I aspire to be published, so I suppose I'm an aspiring author. Yes, that seems right.
But I'm in a slump. I keep writing and writing, and then I look back at what I've written and think one of these things, depending on my mood that day:
a) This is garbage. If I query an agent and get lucky and they want to see ten pages, they're going to make it to the bottom of page one and think, "well, but the pacing sucks." Start over from the beginning.
b) This is garbage, but I've wasted enough time. Just write the damn thing and move on.
c) This is garbage. I ought to give up.
d) Wow. This isn't half bad. I'm going to pomp around the apartment for a while filled with my own sense of self-worth. Damn it feels good to be a gangster. This writing thing is easy-peasy.
D rarely happens, I'll just be honest. But when it does... Those are the days. That feeling of inward validation is what keeps me going.
Right now, I'm certainly in a "c" phase. I haven't written in a week. I've got this mess of a manuscript I don't know how to fix. And one of my other writer friends, she's lovely, but she tells me she writes every single day, inspired or not. And I thought, maybe I ought to be doing that. But maybe my book, maybe that's just too much pressure right now. Maybe I need another outlet where I can vent my creativity and build up the ol' metaphorical callouses on my fingers.
But maybe that won't make me a better writer, I think.
Then again, maybe it will.
So here I am, kind roleplayers of the world. I'm here to join you, at least for a while. Please, take me under your wing. I was a roleplayer once, and I'm a wordsmith forever. So let's go on an adventure.
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