A lot has changed since then. I self -pubbed two urban fantasy novels, wrote the third in the series ( it’s sitting on my desktop), wrote 3 historical fiction, attended 5 conferences, made writer, reviewer, and blogger friends, and landed an agent. ( Waiting for that big break.)
My first post is uncategorized, really short, and without tags—newbie style, but the same joy, zest, and love for writing hasn’t diminished. Not one bit. And you can’t buy that kind of feeling.
I read tons of blogs, tweets, and Facebook posts about writers giving up, becoming impatient with the writing process, and being annoyed about, well…everything concerning the publishing world. It is difficult. Damn difficult. Harnessing creativity is no small task. But we do it because there’s nothing more FABULOUS than the act of creation—of bringing characters to life—of living through them and with them. There’s no higher high than that! Writing is my go-to nepenthe, the perfect opiate for the Real World.
There’s not a whole lot we can control in our lives, but I can control my story…well, mostly.
Here’s my post from June 16, 2012 ( I think 4 people read it. My mom was one of them.)
Writing my novel—whether its throwing a rough draft down on paper or fine-tuning a paragraph–is one of the most enjoyable activities I know. The crazier my life becomes, the more worries swirling around the room, the more enticing to dive into a world of my creation. A world I rule. Only in my novel do I have absolute power. Problems and worries disappear as imagination takes over. My slice of zen. Cathartic writing. Being inside my characters’ heads is ever so much more entertaining than pondering my life.
“Time to go. We’ll be late.” My husband says as I sit at the computer. “You can finish the scene when you get back.”
He’s wrong. I finish the scene in my head while we drive. I finish the scene as we arrive at the party. I finish the scene while making small talk.
And then I start another.