Hello my sweets! Writerly peeps. Let’s chat. You know writing is hard. Anyone who says different is either A. not a writer, or B. a filthy damn liar. Sometimes, at least for me, I get so caught up in whatever it is that’s catching me, and I can’t get a word out. Not a word. Example: It’s taken me fifteen minutes and...
Hello, my dears! Today I am delighted to bring you an interview with the wondrous literary agent Peter Knapp of The Park Literary Group. I’m a huge fan of Peter for a variety of reasons. He’s a genuinely nice guy, sharp as all get-out, and one heck of an agent. Plus, like recent interviewee Bridget Smith, Peter is one of the...
Hello my loves! All right. Gird yourselves. I’m angry. And I mean, shaking, profane, let’s take this outside angry. (By outside, I generally mean into private chat online. Because don’t really punch people, okay guys?) But, as angry as I am, I am going to be very careful. Because if I spout off with the feelings I’ve...
Hello my darlings! Do you remember at various times in your youth, someone older than you would espouse wisdom of what your later years would look like? Sometimes it would be a very old person, touting the knowledge of decades of experience. Sometimes it would be someone seven years older than you and you had to fight the very real desire to...
Hello my sweets!
Writerly peeps. Let’s chat.
You know writing is hard. Anyone who says different is either A. not a writer, or B. a filthy damn liar.
Sometimes, at least for me, I get so caught up in whatever it is that’s catching me, and I can’t get a word out. Not a word.
Example: It’s taken me fifteen minutes and at least eleven different sentences to get this far in the blog.
When I hit the wall, it’s full stop. There are no masterful manuscript words flowing, no blogs blogging, and hell, even my Tweets feel like 140 character cement shoes.
It’s depressing. Wording is what I do. My head is still full of all the things I want to write, they just won’t come out.
Or maybe it will, but it comes out as utter crap, not fit to be read ever by anyone, amen.
When I’m writing, I have to meet my own level of pickiness. It has to be something that I know is at least in place enough to stand up to a solid revision later. It has to work on some level.
If it doesn’t? I shut down.
And then I feel like shit because I’m not getting anything written anywhere and to be quite frank, word creation has a very crack effect on me. The more words, the higher I am.
The lack of words knocks me down to a very low level Summer.
And then I wonder if anyone else grapples with such wordly debilitating feels?
Being a creative type and personally prone to hyperbole, I immediately determine that no, it’s not possible for anyone to suck as much as I am sucking, everyone else is a real writer, a real artiste, and I will flounder in the backwash of the interwebz for the rest of my overly-dramatic days.
For a bit, I can usually snap myself out of that right quick. It’s a dry spell! We all have them! Obviously!
But if it’s a particularly persistent dry spell, and if there are all sorts of other things going on in your real life that are distracting as fuck, one day you look at your laptop and realize exactly how long it’s been since you put something of substance down on paper.
I…write a really bitchin’ To-Do list every day…does that count?
I see all the advice out there that says “DON’T THINK, JUST WRITE. EVEN IF IT SUCKS, KEEP WRITING. YOU CAN FIX IT LATER.”
Hell, I’m pretty sure I’ve given out that advice before.
It’s damn good advice. Seriously.
But some days, when it’s all just a bit too much, when it seems like everyone and their cousin’s dog are announcing a signing or a sale or the deal of a lifetime, when it feels like you’ve been swimming upstream for too damn long, it’s hard to listen to any advice.
Or maybe that’s just me. I can be a stubborn little thing.
But do you know what does make me feel better? Honesty.
The Twitterverse and Blogosphere are full of cheerleaders and people trying to make their way, etch their mark, move along and sometimes it can get really exhausting to the viewer. We can’t all possibly be up all the time.
Which, by the by, I find it shocking that people say that about me. That I’m “UP!” all the time. Trust me, kids. I can be a moody motherfucker.
And trust me. I see the motivation to seem sharp, and positive, and ON all the live long day. You see people getting scooped up into the success bucket and think you can totes be one of those people. But not if you’re talking about how goddamn hard it is to get a word out every now and then.
But for me, the honesty helps. Seeing someone who is usually Billy Badass letting loose some real talk saying in a completely non-faux-humble way, “Dude. I suck right now.”
Seeing someone I know and admire admitting to the suck makes me want to burst into understanding ugly-sobs, reach through the internet, and shake them with the enthusiasm only a shared sense of torture can bring about.
THEY GET ME. THEY KNOW THE STRUGGLE IS REAL.
Because it is real. I mean, damn, guys. It’s real.
So, here I am, setting down my pom-poms for a hot minute. Taking a much needed moment to say I suck. And that’s all I’ve got to give today. Sucking.
Maybe you needed to hear someone else say it. Because I do. And I’m not ashamed of that or sorry. Writing might be an inherently solitary adventure, but there is a strong, close-knit community here that I am happy to be a part of. And I think the reason this community exists is because we need to hear we aren’t the only ones suffering through a stage of suck or a bout of crippling lack of confidence.
And on the good days because when you scream about things like query requests and ISBN numbers and cover art to all the non-writerly people out there, they just stare at you funny.
Perhaps tomorrow will be better. I’m rooting for that.
And here I went and picked up my pom-poms again without even meaning to. Go Tomorrow Me!
I’d do a herkie but I think I pulled a muscle just considering it.
I hope you all are having the very best of weeks that are free of The Suck!
Until next time,
Peace, Love, and Wording