*skids to a stop and looks around*
*whispers in the dark…pft I’m here might as well get on with it.*
*snaps fingers at the assistant muse*
“turn my mic up, a little more”
*ignores the faint growling that lets me know he is in no way amused with my trying to run this show*
Getting on with it is quite possibly the hardest thing an author who has been on a self imposed hiatus from writing can do. There are a million reasons why you aren’t writing. You’re getting organized, you’re working on a schedule, and you’re re-reading old plot ideas. You’re mourning for the times gone past. You’re social networking on finstatumblawettagrambook. Hosting chats and interacting with fans. But the truth is, all those things have just been ways for me to hide. Procrastination disguised as busy work. I’ve been through counseling so I know that I’m just using old hurts and worries as and excuse to keep from getting over it and getting back on the horse.
Truth be told I’m scared. I know for a fact that there are a million other authors out there that do what I do and do it better, longer, harder than I can ever do it. I’m afraid to fail. I’m afraid that I can’t write a story as well as I can tell you a story.
I need the validation of being published. Most artists wont admit that. They’ll tell you that all the need is their arts and money and recognition don’t mean anything. I can’t say that without lying. I like knowing that my books, my creativity is earning your money. I like shoes. So I need to get paid. I really am learning that I like not “working” so I need to write so that my husband doesn’t decide that he doesn’t need a stay at home wife mooching off his hard earned money.
No matter how big and bad I want to be…no matter how cocky I am. Truth is I’m scared. And despite having a nice fan base whom support me I still worry that I’m not good enough I’m not worth of the hard earned money that they save and spend. So I write but I hoard it. I keep it to myself and I never finish it. I talk about it with others who write and sometimes I share it…just little bits, to get my ego rubbed and convince myself I’m not a complete fraud. I blog…little teases of teases. Mostly to entertain myself and sometimes to try to convince readers that I really am doing more than sitting around
naked…er in my underwear… in pjs
watching cartoons and playing with instafacetwitblr all day.
But the truth really is. That I’m sitting here staring at the screen, breathing slowly. Putting my fingers to the keys then taking them away to wipe the sweat from my palms before putting them back.
Today I made a decision. To get on with it. I took three stories that are for the most part complete and sent them to this publisher (MMP) who has been patiently waiting for me to do ANYTHING. She’ll evaluate the stories and suggest changes and then
ride me like I come with
batteries and a suction cup stick to me until I clean them up and get them
sent for edits.
Three stories that have been sitting, wilting and stagnating on my hard drive for years… seriously like years half a decade for one of them.
I’m getting over myself…and getting on with it.
And now I’m going to make my way to the kitchen and bake something unnecessarily sinful and then eat it while I hide in my closet and rock back and forward while plotting to fly to her home and steal her electronics before she can open the files.
*crumbles into a mess of nervous writer goo on stages and waits for the assistant muse as he stands over me rolling his eyes and mumbling about melodrama before gathering me up and carrying me to the car. I ask if we can stop for ice cream as I snuggle in to his chest. His soft kiss on my forehead and the deep rumble of his chuckle makes me feel safe*
“You can even have a double scoop and extra sprinkles”
*The voice soothes me as does the rumble of the engine in his muscle car. Sigh, maybe this won’t be so bad after all.*
Well, since I was early enough to schedule this blog, I guess I'll see you guys in a month! You can always catch up with me over at http://dreariley.blogspot.com/ or on fb where I'm sure I'll be doing some sort of procrastinating. Who knows? Maybe by September you'll have read something brand spanking new and sparkly by me. Until next time, I'll be attending the shenanigans.