Part 1 Confessions: Struggling with Writer’s Fear

Something that I’ve been avoiding writing about for awhile now…

And that is about Fear…or, most importantly, about MY FEAR.

A writer’s fear. Yikes. A crippling phobia that leads to self doubt, blank pages and writer’s block. I am so worried about whether or not my writing will be good or not, and I don’t get anything written.

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If you all remember, back in August, I purchased Writer’s Market 2014 with much excitement and enthusiasm, all with the intention of moving myself forward on the path of freelancing and writing as a way to make a living.

I thumped the gigantic book on my desk and then stared at it apprehensively for a few minutes. (No lie.) With a deep breath, I managed to page through the first few pages, and then I pushed it aside, opened up Pandora and started listening to something soothing. Query letters? Submissions? Deadlines? Limits?

Words that didn’t seem intimidating before were suddenly hitting me in the face. Where was my inhaler again? Where was this all coming from?

So, I thought. And I thought some more.

All these questions buzzed through my head: How do I make the submission process, editing and proof-reading work for me? What are my goals? Do I have any? What will bring me satisfaction? What do I want to write and where do I want to send it to?

Wait a minute, self. Slooww down.

I need to keep constantly reminding myself: everyone has their own way of dealing with something. As writers, we should remember that each of us has our own style and that can be applied in all that we do. No one is the same, embrace it!

Also the most important thing right now: Write, Write, Write!  (<<<Something that I will keep reminding myself no matter what! How am I to succeed if I don’t try?)

In the next few days, I will be doing some of my own research to help counteract this weight on my shoulders, and on my chest. I will succeed as a writer. I just have to have the courage to face my own fears!

No April Fool’s jokes for me today, too much to do! Stay tuned for Part 2: My ways to Counteract Writer’s Fear!

Can you guess what color I am?

Dusk at Binghamton University’s wildlife reserve.

It’s early morning, and I really should be sleeping, but thought I would post my latest assignment from my writing class. It really is forcing me to stretch back into that creative mold and realize just because I’ve been to a few college classes, doesn’t mean that I am the expert that I think I am – sometimes I forget that we writers can get cocky sometimes. 😉

Anywho…the assignment was to describe a color and do this in the first person. (Pretend we are essentially the color.) The bit I wrote was a broad scope of how one color can be many, but I like the phrases I got here:

I am that periwinkle color of a forgotten sweater. I am royal, I am sweet, call me what you want; pop in your mouth grapes, a plum, hanging loose from the vine. I am everything that you want to go right in your life. Find me on the highway, stripped from its owner; a scarf blowing in the breeze. A dark, bleeding sunset, a midnight sky so inky. I am velvet, I am happy beams of ambrosia, lavender, freesia. The sparkle in a raindrop, no larger than a pin-prick. Find me soaring, the color of wind, grey and regal. Find me goofy. A bulky mauve dinosaur that everyone hates. Flowers in a field of straw, choking out the other plant life. Birthed by two colors, given life from two opposites, warm, cold, light and dark.

What am I?

In Medias Res Part 2 – Chicken and Rice Soup

Picture taken by my cousin, Mark. Watch out Mr. chicken…that’s a bull!

So, as emphasized in my last post, my creative writing teacher was big on the phrase “In medias res,” which means in the middle of things. She encouraged us with various prompts to start out our stories in the middle of the action and let the exposition flow through in the narrative.

I loved those prompts, so I thought I’d share one of my stories from that 15 minute exercise. I wrote all of it in that 15 minute journal session, and very little is changed from the original with the exception of added commas, and a few extra adjectives here and there. I’ve always meant to add more to the story, but it always seemed so neat leaving it the way it is.

I believe the prompt was something along the lines of “write a prompt of a family situation, made up or real and include a body part or some catastrophe. Start the narrative in the middle of the drama. Go!”

***(FYI, this is completely made up. Although I do have an uncle named Donald.)

Chicken and Rice Soup

So Uncle Donald dropped his teeth in the chicken and rice soup, and there they were grinning stupidly up at us, like they were about to start yammering about how maybe too salty the soup was or start shivering – chattering back and forth – yak, yak, yak, yak, yak.

We all stood around the pot of soup in silence, staring down at it. Me, Aunt Josie, Uncle Donald and Daryl, my brother. Uncle Donald’s toothless mouth wore a grim expression.

I thought that if we broke the silence that would be it, and the teeth would start talking back up at us. I felt a smile tug at the corner of my mouth, felt it want to yank up to one side and let out a large gurgley sort of laugh. Daryl caught my expression and coughed into his rough callused hand. He wore a black t-shirt, his jeans baggy like always. Aunt Josie went and got the tongs.

“Oh dear, oh dear,” she fretted and scooped the teeth out and set them down on a paper towel.

Uncle Donald cleared his throat. “Might want to want to wash them off, Josephine,” He said. He only used her full name when he was being real serious.

She had wandered into the kitchen and set the tongs in the sink. “The tongs?” she asked him.

“Not just the tongs,” coughed Daryl into his hand. Aunt Josie returned to the Dining room.

“Now, now,” she chided, although she wasn’t scolding. “These things happen.”

Uncle Donald got up with a grunt and took his teeth into the bathroom.

“Yeah, only in our family,” I said when Uncle Donald’s back had disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Daryl and I started laughing.

(In which it ends, and I’ve tried to add more but just can’t seem to get the same innocent frankness of the narrator. Who is a young girl about twelve or so named Charlie. Leave some thoughts below if you want to!)

A bit of Joss Whedon, Firefly, Dialogue, and Great Writing

Well, had a busy, girlie day with the mother and sister shopping and while me and my sister came home both tired and worn out because we both have some kind of nasty flu bug, I’ve been veggin’ on the couch watching firefly. Did I mention how much I love Joss Whedon?

I love everything about the show. Great characters, great story, great setting, great writing…I love Nathan Fillion. (Uh, how dumb were they to cancel this show??)

Myrtle Beach. Was pining for some place warm and sunny.

Anyway, Joss Whedon is just an amazing inspiration and someone I look up to when it comes to great fiction writing. For those of you who don’t know who is he, he is the master mind behind Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel and Doll House. In the earlier years, he was on the writing team of Rosanne. Although more recently, he was the brilliant writer and director behind the movie Avengers.

He is also the reason why a lot of my writing is dialogue-based. From his example, I am inspired by what my characters say, and I want what my characters say to reflect who they are and have them contribute to the overall theme of the story.

There is some annoyance to read a book where the characters just sit around talking to each other and nothing happens. How boring. Just like with a movie, or a TV show, dialogue can make or break a story. And I don’t want that to happen to my writing. I want my characters to say something that actually means something.

Anyway, was playing around with new themes last night for this blog, and settled on this one (for now). That is until (if it is worth it) I will purchase the upgrade so I can fool around with the settings anyway I want! 🙂 Just wanted something that was more accessible to my viewers! Shiny!