Friday, December 4, 2009


As in...

I don't know....I don't have...I can't write....

It's been a long time. First it was the holiday, then it was the Small One's birthday, then it was the Mommies Club meeting...and so here I am.

It's funny, I find when I'm not writing I complain about it, but then when I do have the time to write, I don't. Over the course of the last however-long-it's-been, I've had hours, free time, breaks in my life where I could have sat down and plodded through something. But I didn't. I don't know why. I am ashamed of myself. This is supposed to be my occupation, what kind of an employee does that make me if I can't even sit down when I'm supposed to?

However, big fat however, I have been reading, blogs mostly, because where else can I possibly find people who discuss books and writing, and I think for the most part, I am not alone. There are other people out there, just like me, struggling to write, making time, finding time, giving up certain time. I totally envy those that can plow through chapters in a weekend, totally am jealous over those that find their muse at 4:30 in the morning and write before work, totally hate those that say, "I just finished my second book". I really hate those people. Okay, I take it back, I don't hate you, I'm just so desirous for a shot at being published, the green-eyed monster is eating at me.

As with all this time off, I've been thinking too, about how long it takes to actually write. I started the first book in October 08. I finished the first draft in July 09. I set it aside for a month and worked on the revisions during Sept/Oct. So, all in all, it took me about a year to write a book. In my genre, authors tend to write 2 or 3 books a year. How? I ask you how? Do you not have a life? Do you not have kids, dogs, parents, do you live in a vaccuum?

I have to ask myself is it because of the upcoming holidays? Do I think I'm wasting my time on my book when I could be baking cookies or creating holiday cheer? Spending time with my daughter waiting for Santa? I don't know.

Or is it simply because a round full of rejections told me I can't write. So why bother. Or maybe because a very good friend told me I would never be published if I wasn't a celebrity. (Yes, I am still reeling over that one) Or maybe because my own vanity got me in this in the first place and now I find I'm really just a hack.
I don't know.

What I'd really like, kind of crave actually, is a professional critique of my work. I've searched the web and have found a few sights that could help but only for a query or a chapter. I'd like a real person, real feedback. It's hard living in a one-horse town where no one reads or can even comprehend the true English language. (I kid you not.)

So, gentle reader, after telling you all my troubles, I feel much better, but I still don't know Jack.


Lady Glamis said...

I share feelings like this, too. I think it's hard to compare ourselves to others. In fact, it's just unfair. I get frustrated with some of my friends that write really really fast, and I get frustrated every time I read somewhere that somebody ELSE GOT AN AGENT.I always say I'm not in this for publication, but the truth is it's something I'd really like to happen.

It's so great to get your thoughts out there. Thank you for sharing yours.

Piedmont Writer said...

People have always said I wear my heart on my sleeve. I've never felt in holding back, keeping things bottled up, it causes headaches, and heartaches. I'll admit I'm jealous as hell over people who are getting published right now. But you know what, when I finally do get published there will be people who are jealous of me.