Thoughts on writing

A month or so ago I had the bright idea to write and publish something every day on this website. You could consider them blogposts. WordPress does. I called them “stories,” although they are more like scenes. Musings. Upchuckings. Call them what you want, I don’t care. The point is, what I’ve learned (and what you probably already know) is that showing up to write daily is damn difficult. Even the unpolished drivel I’m posting. I can only guess how hard would be if I actually cared about plot, character, punctuation, and typos.

What was I thinking? I must have been out of my mind. I blithely made a commitment to publish something daily without really imagining what it was going to feel like to follow through. In fact, I thought I could keep it up for an entire year. My friend Christy used the term “ass in seat,” and I thought, I can do that. I have an ass. I have a seat, more or less, not a chair by most definitions, but definitely a place to put my ass. How hard can it be?

I am embarrassed.

I pride myself on not being a quitter. I’ve worked hard in the past twenty years to do what I say I’m going to do. It’s a matter of personal integrity. When I enrolled in graduate school, I wasn’t sure I could finish, but once I was committed (eight years of sunk costs scraping my brain daily), I knew failure was not an option. I put my head down and white-knuckled my way through to the phinish line. I wish now I hadn’t done it, but it’s done, and even though the university I attended no longer exists, I still earned that stupid degree.

It’s silly to be so self-obsessed. I know nobody else is keeping track. They are much too busy with their own lives to pay attention to my failures. I think if I were to break into two for a moment and pretend like I’m having a dissociative identity crisis, I would pat myself on the back and say “Well done, Carol, for showing up for the work.”

And I would say, “Well, thanks, Carol. I wish I’d done better.”

And then I would tell myself, “You can, and you will, if you keep practicing. Don’t forget your writer friends who keep their stories locked inside them because they are too afraid of making a fool of themselves by publishing something that isn’t ready.”

At that point, I would look askance at myself (is my hair really that gray?) and wonder if that was a passive aggressive way of telling me I’m making a fool of myself by publishing things that aren’t ready.

And my alter ego would hasten to reassure me: “No, no, it’s all about practice! You are practicing the writing life, every day. It’s not about quality, it’s about quantity.”

“Thanks, I think,” I would say and mope around for a bit.

It’s been an experience. No, let’s call it an experiment. I’m glad I tried it. I learned a few things about myself, mainly that writing is a one-day-at-a-time endeavor and tomorrow is out of my hands, no matter how minutely I plan my day. It’s okay to have goals but managing outcomes is beyond me.

All that aside, the truth is, I need to get back to my writing projects. I have the first draft of a book almost ready (my shameless attempt at earning money by telling other people how to earn money—hey, other people do it, why can’t I?) It’s a slogfest of all I’ve learned as a mentor. I hope this book will help many more artists figure out how to sell their art. As a somewhat unique weirdo squatting at the uncomfortable intersection of art and business, I think I can help. Coming soon to KDP in 2024, which is actually two days from now. Hoo boy.

The book that is burning a hole in my brain is the third book of my Seamier Side of Magic trilogy. I hope I can get it onto paper before I die. Frak needs to find her path, and Stan needs rescuing! I can’t write all that in one blogpost.

The writing life continues. What else is there?