But I’m never going to be a writer
No, I really did say that. For years.
Feel free to take a moment to laugh. I’ll just be over here dropping my head against my work table with a loud, hollow ‘thunk’ and watching my dog freak out and my cats re-index my level of insanity. It’s fun.
(If you are familiar with me at all, including just reading almost any randomly-chosen paragraph from this blog, you are entirely justified in any laughter this post prompts.)
Yes. I did indeed deny that I could ever be a writer. Not because I had anything against it – far from it! I was such a voracious reader (my mother first called me a bibliophage when I was six, and I adored the title, the idea of devouring books, and continue to do so now) and I loved the idea of being an author.
I just didn’t think I could ever do it. Not because of the things that daunt me now – or, mostly not – but because I really did think that I was not capable of coming up with ideas, much less putting them into anything coherent, much less on any kind of regular basis.
For reference, as of the publication of this post, I have written some form of fiction every single day for 2,215 days*, I have participated in seven National Novel Writing Months (and every session of Camp NaNo to date – ten), and written fanfiction for a rather alarming seventy-eight fandoms.
First of all, Happy Halloween! (and Samhain or New Year or whatever you may celebrate now) This post is mostly me telling a story.
So I have always (count from roughly six months after I started writing, when I started seriously writing) backed up my work fairly regularly. (Sometimes the ‘schedule’ is a bit sketchy, but it’s there.) I didn’t personally need another reminder that it is very important to do so just in case, but here on NaNoWriMo-eve, perhaps someone else will take from it.
At the end of last month, shortly after we (the Ferrets) returned from our writing retreat (what I actually wanted to write about for a blog post this month) I had an Incident.
It was a perfectly fine evening, if you can say that about one o’clock in the morning, and I had just settled down with cinnamon tea and graham crackers to write (a new project I’d started instead of the one with a deadline I should have been doing). Upon fishing out a piece of graham cracker from the depths of tea, I left the spoon balanced across my cup, which meant when the cat divebombed from the back of the couch to the floor, her jostling of the table and/or my elbow knocked the spoon into the full cup of tea.
This splashed out roughly three tablespoons of tea directly onto the trackpad of my laptop, two inches away. This was Not A Good Thing.
Not a lot to say today – life hit one of those stages that seems to be sapping ability, ideas, inspiration, motivation . . . all but my actual desire to write. (Those days, like I’ve been having for the past week and a half, are always hard.) As soon as I manage to kick it off and work on (almost) whatever I want, as usual, I’ll probably write about exactly that – it’s so frustrating to overcome!
I know I can’t be the only one to suffer that problem, or to try and fight through it, and after going on four years of dedicated daily writing (I only rarely regret that promise to myself) while it is fortunately not a common obstacle for me, it is still horrible every time.
For now, though, if you’ve been more curious about the mad woman behind this place, the introduction for the final Ferret – that’s me! – has gone up at the RRFS blog today! Also, if you’ve ever wondered about what methods the Queen of Creative Deaths would choose to use if she really had to kill people, or what method she would never use . . . well, so did Jess, and there’s an answer in my Ferret Introduction post!
Next week the RRFS blog will take off with what will become its usual fare – including a post on her personal writing strengths and weaknesses from Rebekah, and even a surprise from me!
Lack of inspiration or no, there will be more from me here this week, too, so see you soon!