Archive for April, 2015

My Writer’s Persona

Once Upon a TimeThere comes a time in every writer’s life when you really feel like a writer.  I know when it happened for me.  It was not so long ago.  Someone I had just met asked me what I did.  I took a deep breath, looked him in the eye, and with a great deal of trepidation I blurted it out.

“I’m a writer.”  And then I recoiled as if I was waiting for some gasp or physical repercussion.  I mean, you know, a lot of writers have rather, um…less-than-savory reputations.  There tends to be a lot of rambling around mumbling—mostly to ourselves—keeping odd hours, and let’s not forget a penchant for substances.   Hey, it happens.

Although I’m getting a little more comfortable in my writer’s skin, I still have a ways to go.  I’m nowhere near one of the great ones.  I hope I’m getting there, but I’m definitely not there yet.  So far I’m still in between the take-most-of-the-freelance-gigs-that-come-my-way and don’t-quit-your-day-job phase.  But it’ll happen.  It’s really a matter of time; my time and making better use of it to be specific.

Since I’m sitting on two unedited books and three more floating in my head, I know that at least I’m not out of ideas.  From what I read, that seems to be what troubles writers most.  There’s all kinds of information online about where to find inspiration.  My imagination must be quite creative and demented.  Or to paraphrase The Hub, creepy to the point of being scary.

Why yes, I do write some suspense.  (Insert diabolical laugh.)

Sometimes people become guarded around you when they know you’re a writer.  Many are convinced you’re writing about them; vain and paranoid is a comical combination.  That being said, I will admit I write my characters quite frequently based on real people.  But it’s usually just a mannerism or character trait that makes its way in, nothing too obvious.

When people find out you’re a writer they feel it’s necessary to give you story ideas or book titles.  You know, just in case you’re in a slump and can’t come up with your own.  Bless their little hearts.  I guess it’s better than being a doctor and people wanting to show you their weird mole.  Ew.

Yes, people are funny.

Oh well.  I love to write.  I love when people tell me about something I have written.  I admit it, I am definitely a writer.


Confessions of a Tired Writer

Write the BookI never thought it would happen to me; but here I am, struggling to find time to write.  I’ve always been the one championing making the calendar; block out the times for xyz, and then look at all the time you’ve got left over! 

Well guess what, there isn’t much left over.

Now that I’ve gone back to work full time, I find that everything else in my life is getting squeezed out.  Some things are getting dropped all together.  But I am still working as a freelancer, and I think that’s what keeps me sane.

I wrote a book last November.  After a half-hearted try a couple years ago, this one is actually pretty damn good.  However, it’s sitting untouched in my computer, just begging to be edited and published.  I know I could get it done, and I think it would actually sell a few copies.

But I am tired.

I know, I know, we’re all tired, right?  Maybe it’s that time of year—winter just won’t let spring take over.  Even as I write this snow is falling on the April lawns that are trying to turn green.  And my “j-o-b” has taken nearly all of my day.  Between the commute, the hours, and then coming home to cook and clean up, all that’s left is an hour or two before bed.  And at that point my brain is fried.  I cannot bear the thought of turning on a computer.

I’m in a writing funk.

But then the texts came a couple days ago.  Requests for one article, then three articles, and then two more.  Six pieces with deadlines.  Suddenly I’m awake.  I know what needs to be done, and by what date.  I’m working in the car as I ride shotgun, making calls and taking notes.  I have interviews set up for this weekend.  I will be writing.  I will be editing.  I will make the time.

Maybe that’s the secret.  I need to make my writing a priority again.  Blocking out the time, even if it’s only on weekends.  Writing little notes to myself on Post-its or napkins in the lunch room, ideas on the notepad in my phone, whatever it takes.  I need to snap out of it.

Because a writer writes.  Always.  It’s gotta be true; it was in a movie.