Writing

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I am a writer.

Was that believable?  I’ve been practicing.  I can almost say it out loud.

See, I’ve been writing one thing or another my entire life.  Poems, stories, essays, ideas.  I’m always writing.  I keep a journal.  Scratch that.  I keep journals all over my room, house, and workplaces.  I write all the time.   I scribble ideas for characters or stories.  I daydream when I’m not writing about stuff that I may later write about.  I’ve always been a writer.  But there’s a difference between being the writer I’ve always been and, for example, JK Rowling or James Patterson.  The difference is publishing and money, in case you were wondering.

Recently I decided to take that step and flip that switch.  That is to say I decided to try and be published for what I write.  It’s an excruciatingly slow process.  Don’t worry, I’m enjoying it.  I’m reveling in the wonderous pain that comes with holding that story in your head until your fingers can type fast enough to put it onto the page.  I’m writing almost daily.  I’ve finished writing and editing a full book and its sequel.  I’ve finished a third, which is in editing now.  I’m working on a fourth.  I’ve enrolled in James Patterson’s Masterclass on writing.

So I’m really doing this.

The problem is that I’m also a perfectionist.  If you aren’t in the business then you don’t know the mountain of rejection letters that are our reality.  That is the hardest part.  Tom Leveen (a great young adult author whom I had the pleasure of  taking a writing course with) says this job is equal parts talent and luck.  The problem is that once you start receiving those rejection letters, you start to wonder if it’s the talent missing…instead of the luck.

Enter the blog.  If I tell other people about it, then it must be true.  If I have other people watching my progress, it must be worthwhile.  I can’t stop fighting.  That is why I used the quote from Kurt Vonnegut as the title for my page.  I’m standing on the cliff of publishing, hoping those damn wings show up before I smash into the bottom.

Geronimo.

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