So much of writing happens behind the scenes, alone and in silence.
It’s too easy to fool ourselves into thinking it’s different these days, what with social media and the Internet. Sometimes, people get caught up with just talking about writing on their groups or forums, as opposed to actually writing.
I get it. It’s hard.
Sometimes it’s like a battle between you and a blank, empty page, and you only have a keyboard for your weapon. I have a nice, mechanical keyboard, which makes such satisfying clickety-clack sounds. It also makes a satisfying sound when I smash my head on it in frustration.
Social media is nice. You feel productive talking about your work, even if you haven’t done anything else that day. I see a lot of talk about how becoming popular on social media is all the rage now and the secret to success and I get that, too, only…and maybe this is just my opinion…it doesn’t change that battle. It doesn’t change the excruciating task of putting words down on your manuscript, never mind all the feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing it stirs. Honestly, sometimes I think it’s just a distraction, like chatting with your soldier buddies before a fight. Backs behind you may make a difference, but you’re still going to be there, swinging your sword.
I‘ve been writing for almost 24 years. Most of those happened before I ever really hung around social media (I’m a lurker–I seem to know more about people than they know about me), so I’ve become quite an expert on self-motivation.
I’ve learned the rare art of talking to myself so I can figure out all the little things that bother me and stop me from putting words down that day. What’s up, Kay? Are you tired? Are you hungry? It’s plotting problems, isn’t it? Your character’s a douche? Well, he was a douche from the beginning, maybe he needs better motivation! What’s that, you’re going to die alone and undiscovered and all of this will be for nothing? Well, tough cookies…what are you going to do, stop?
I’ve never stopped.
Sometimes, it’s really, really hard, and I want to throw things around and cry. I want to write a scene so badly, but it doesn’t materialize. I read the words and it feels flat. And all the effort feels like it’s for nothing, because I didn’t make a single sale last month or my last review was months ago and it’s not even that I want any of these things, I don’t really want acknowledgement, I just want to feel like what I’m doing has substance–that it’s all just not happening in my head. So that I can find some strength to tell that inner voice to fuck off, I’m busy writing, and if I’m not, I will be, soon.
I don’t even know what I’m trying to say right now. Maybe I’m just motivating myself again. Something to tide me over until that next battle: keyboard, empty screen, a chip on my shoulder over having been born as this person who needs to write as much as she needs to breathe.
I mean, what choice do I have?
Read the The Agartes Epilogues. It won’t take too much of your time.
