Writing is not the easiest thing in the world to do despite what anyone tells you. As a matter of fact it’s probably the hardest endeavor that anyone can attempt. Anyone can put a pen to paper. It takes someone with a strong will to be an author in today’s world. While social media is the place we can connect with potential readers, meet other authors and share our work, it is also the bane of doubt, a sense of being unworthy and wondering at times why we bother. We wonder why we persevere, why we continue to fight being seen in a sea of other authors. If you can’t put money behind advertising then you will never be seen. It’s a dark yet real truth of writing, of following that passion. It’s especially hard if you’re somewhat introverted like me.
Facebook is the place to go if you really want to feel horrible about yourself because you are constantly bombarded with posts about how successful others are or claim to be after launching a book. Getting friends and authors to share your posts is more painful than grabbing a pair of pliers and ripping out your big toenails simultaneously. For whatever reason, authors that are self published will not band together, which in itself is the most ludicrous and large hypocrisy to hit the planet. If we stand together and not apart, if share the works of others, if we are supporting our fellow authors a few wonderful occurrences happen. More people will discover your books. Readers will see you as a caring individual, that author will then share your posts. It becomes not a vicious cycle but a wonderful cycle and center of support. I’ve attempted many times to create such a circle. It always flops miserably with a thud that echoes through the atmosphere at the speed of light. That’s where the writer’s block creeps in slowly but surely. The success of others can kill even the most creative mind, driving it to a halt, filling it with doubt, and making you wonder why you persevere in the first place.
It’s different for everyone. For me it’s the passion about sharing a story that lives, yes lives, in my mind. My characters talk to me, they tell me what they are, who they are, and how they want their stories told. While they may continually scream, attempting to get my attention, that doesn’t mean I can sit at my computer and write something worth reading. Those days are reserved for note taking, mindless scribbles that make sense only to me and to them. In the end, all those strange notes become the beginning of being able to write again with a voice strong enough and worthy enough to be the character. So while there might be lapses in physical writing of the story, it is written and worked on daily, even if just in notes until that courage returns.
Until that rooster crows again, happy creating, reading, plotting and planning from Hargrove Perth.
