~ * Fin * ~
I’m at the end of the road. I have finished the book I have been writing, my heroine is happy that I have told her story and I find I have scratched the itch it has presented me with.
It’s a romantic love story with fantasy overtones, in so much that the characters are not completely human and have the ability to shape shift, apparate and do ‘magic’. I’ve loved exploring their heads and creating the adventure I saw them having and it has been a journey of discovery which I’ve enjoyed.
So I’m done…
Currently it’s saved on my external hard drive, I’m going to save it to a disc and then I’m going to put that disc on a shelf somewhere safe and get on with my life.
I started writing it at the end of last October, these people got in my head after a particularly difficult insomnia period and would not let me rest so I thought I’d write them down. I had been blogging for 6 months at the time and it seemed like a natural progression to have a go at writing fiction, something I had not done since I was 16. So I did. I even blogged about it at the time.
No, I’m not trying to write a book, although it currently sits at 25,000 words and it’s nowhere near all out yet, I’m writing for the sheer pleasure of doing it and enjoying the characters and their antics. When I‘ve finished I expect I shall print it off and put it in a cupboard and visit it when I get nostalgic, after all it’s given me this last week or so it will deserve to be treasured.
and this is exactly what I’m going to do.
You see, I’m a writer because I have a need to write. I studied English at O’Level, nothing further. I have never taken a writing course in my life. I write for me and me alone, I plop stuff on this little blog because other people seem to like reading it. I have no set intention of writing a piece to please a reader, I’m engaged in what I write because I’m writing it, that is my only goal. So perhaps it could be better? *shrugs* I can’t stop my life happening around me in order to be a better writer, I’m a mother and a wife not an author and I don’t have a team of people to help me improve my idle jottings. I’m not a professional, I probably unwittingly fall at every obvious writing pot hole and fail somewhere within every piece (especially the ones on a short deadline!) I never once, ever, claimed to be any good at this writing thing.
I’m not an ambitious person besides wanting a happy life, I don’t like to compete and by the same token I don’t often draw attention to myself. So maybe I’m a closet exhibitionist and yes okay I’ve put my words out here and I do tell twitter they are published for people to see, this is more then enough for me, although I recently submitted a short story to a publication, I don’t think I’m going to do it again.
The fact that others do enjoy it stuns me, often beyond comprehension and I get very overwhelmed when people say they like what I have produced. You could probably hear my smutty giggle from there when people tell me they are aroused by what I write… so fabulous that! I love that people enjoy what I write and thank you sincerely if you do!
Looking at the process involved with getting this little book to a publisher scares me, it’s really hard and I have always known it would be, I have asked myself recently if I’m able to do it and I keep coming back to the the fact that I’m not able to deal with rejection. It’s been blatantly drawn to my attention that I’m not equipped for people to make even what they probably think is constructive criticism of something I’ve created, I’ve balked in the face of writing anything again recently because someone delivered unasked for criticism, it seems I’m not mentally able to go through the process of pushing myself and my novel out into the world. It’s glaringly obvious to me now why I’ve been so happy to procrastinate over something that really could have been put to bed last spring.
Please don’t think I’m feeling sorry for myself, far from it! I have made a choice, I’ve chosen not to try and get it published and the sense of relief is huge. The only reason I’m writing this is because my brain is telling me to purge it, these thoughts are dead weight, carrion, I need to get them out of my head. I’d put this on the other blog but I’m afraid that the only two people who have read the book besides Himself would have a go at me and frankly, I just can’t face this either. So sorry you lot, you get to hear my mindless self evaluation again…
I don’t suppose I will ever stop writing, even when I was toying with changing this blog to only erotic stories a week or so ago, the thought of not writing anymore never crossed my mind for a second! I’m not sure I can. As this is my blog I shall just carry on writing what my quirky little head tells me to write, in my own particular way and get pleasure from the process, because it’s my space it doesn’t really matter what others think of how I write, does it! and I shall enjoy my smirks gained from those of you that tell me you wanked over it 😉
The wet wipes are on the dresser…