Hello fellow scribblers
Last week I weeded my creative garden, digging out and destroying as many creation killers as I could find. I made two lists (I love lists) weeds and flowers. The weed list went something like this and told of all the reasons why my dream couldn't come true. Lack of time. Lack of money. Useless. No talent. No motivation. Unrealistic goals. While my flower list had all positive points. My dream. Desire, hidden talent that just needs to be nurtured. Enjoyment. Fulfilment. Passion.
I then took the weed list and set fire to it, destroying and cleansing my imagination which had become choked. Just because I didn't get enough time to spend on my writing, I thought, what's the point? Well there is a point. It's my dream. To take a line from a captain sensible song . . .If you don't have a dream, how you gonna make a dream come true? No dream. No hope.
As long as we're alive, there is hope, without hope, there is nothing to look forward to, no goal to aim for. Time is precious and we have to make the most of what we've got. I'd love to be able to write all day, to allow my creative juices to run riot, but that's not going to happen, instead I have to make good use of the time I've got. If I've got an hour or more, I'll work on my novel, if I've only got 15 or 20 minutes, I'll outline a short story, (short stories and flash are easier to dip in and out of)
I've taken a long hard look at my life this last week. It's not perfect by any means, far from it. But by being given this passion, this crumb of talent, why would I want to throw it away. If you don't take control of your life, then fate will control it for you. I don't want to be at the mercy of fate. Yes, it's going to be hard, but nothing worth having ever came easy. You have to fight for what you want, what you believe in and I believe in myself, even if no-one else does, that doesn't matter, self belief can move mountains. As Lisa Simpson said, believe in yourself and you can achieve anything.
Last week on my soul searching exercise, I forbid myself to write for the week. It was hard, no it was impossible, I lasted two days before I snatched up a pen and began to write. So you see, writing is in me, it's a part of me, a part of who I am. So grab your dreams, whatever they are with both hands, dust off the cobwebs, pull out the weeds and go for it, fight for what you want and make it happen.
Monday 24 March 2014
Monday 17 March 2014
The Seed Of Doubt
This week sees the ramblings from a tormented mind.
Firstly my shifts last week were horrendous, two twelve hour and three six hours in that place kills my creativity and gives me no time to write, hence the missed blog of last week. Also, I loath my day job with a passion. I do not feel like a 'valued member of the team' simply a body to fill a vacancy. If I were to break down or die, I could easily be replaced.
I did manage to write a little last week, I penned a 250 word flash fiction for Massacre Magazine, which for a while I was quite happy with. I'm not usually happy with anything I write, when I re-read it, its like being back at school . . . could do better. I also wrote about eight pages of my novel, but with time being so short, by the time I've got back into it, I have to leave it as something else demands my attention and if that wasn't bad enough, someone planted the seed of doubt.
As well as writing horror, I collect horror related items and recently brought on ebay a creepy looking black Victorian dolls pram, it was a reproduction so only cost £20. The seed planter then proceeded to tell me I had wasted my money and could have used it for something more important instead, which strangely got me thinking about my writing. Instead of wasting money, was I wasting time?
I have always written because I enjoy it and like most people, with a view to publication, dreaming of the 'big one,' the book that will launch my career. But is that all it is? A wild dream. Am I wasting my time chasing shadows than can never be caught? Could I be doing something more productive instead?
I had the day off work yesterday and decided to catch up on my novel, but the seed was germinating and like a weed was suffocating my creativity. Words wouldn't come, sentences were truncated and paragraphs died on the page. Suddenly I thought, who am I kidding; I'm never going to be the next Anne Rice or Steven King. I'm 48, I have health issues, time is not on my side, so why am I sitting here tormenting myself with something I might not be any good at?
My dream has always been to live in a nice little house by the sea and make my living from writing. Maybe I'm deluded, dreaming the impossible dream. Maybe I should just keep my stories for myself and write just for pleasure, or maybe I should give up entirely, I'm not sure anymore.
Writing has always been a pleasure, something to look forward to, like visiting an old friend, but it feels like my paper friends are turning against me. They are disinterested and sullen like a sulky child and all because of the seed.
Maybe the seed was a wake up call, or simply a throw away comment, either way, it made me think. But maybe that was a good thing. To think is to have ideas and ideas are what a writer needs. Maybe next week I'll feel better. Should I do some serious gardening and get rid of the weeds? Or do I let them take over and turn my fertile garden into a wasteland?
Firstly my shifts last week were horrendous, two twelve hour and three six hours in that place kills my creativity and gives me no time to write, hence the missed blog of last week. Also, I loath my day job with a passion. I do not feel like a 'valued member of the team' simply a body to fill a vacancy. If I were to break down or die, I could easily be replaced.
I did manage to write a little last week, I penned a 250 word flash fiction for Massacre Magazine, which for a while I was quite happy with. I'm not usually happy with anything I write, when I re-read it, its like being back at school . . . could do better. I also wrote about eight pages of my novel, but with time being so short, by the time I've got back into it, I have to leave it as something else demands my attention and if that wasn't bad enough, someone planted the seed of doubt.
As well as writing horror, I collect horror related items and recently brought on ebay a creepy looking black Victorian dolls pram, it was a reproduction so only cost £20. The seed planter then proceeded to tell me I had wasted my money and could have used it for something more important instead, which strangely got me thinking about my writing. Instead of wasting money, was I wasting time?
I have always written because I enjoy it and like most people, with a view to publication, dreaming of the 'big one,' the book that will launch my career. But is that all it is? A wild dream. Am I wasting my time chasing shadows than can never be caught? Could I be doing something more productive instead?
I had the day off work yesterday and decided to catch up on my novel, but the seed was germinating and like a weed was suffocating my creativity. Words wouldn't come, sentences were truncated and paragraphs died on the page. Suddenly I thought, who am I kidding; I'm never going to be the next Anne Rice or Steven King. I'm 48, I have health issues, time is not on my side, so why am I sitting here tormenting myself with something I might not be any good at?
My dream has always been to live in a nice little house by the sea and make my living from writing. Maybe I'm deluded, dreaming the impossible dream. Maybe I should just keep my stories for myself and write just for pleasure, or maybe I should give up entirely, I'm not sure anymore.
Writing has always been a pleasure, something to look forward to, like visiting an old friend, but it feels like my paper friends are turning against me. They are disinterested and sullen like a sulky child and all because of the seed.
Maybe the seed was a wake up call, or simply a throw away comment, either way, it made me think. But maybe that was a good thing. To think is to have ideas and ideas are what a writer needs. Maybe next week I'll feel better. Should I do some serious gardening and get rid of the weeds? Or do I let them take over and turn my fertile garden into a wasteland?
Monday 3 March 2014
So Many Stories So Little Time
Hello writing world.
Its been a busy past week. Firstly the offending tooth has gone, ripped out on Tuesday and consigned to the tooth fairy trashcan. (I'm sure there's a story in there somewhere)
As expected my shifts have all changed this week, but as I said before, it could work in my favour as it has today. I was on an early this morning which freed up the afternoon and evening for writing. Arriving home about 3pm, I grabbed my laptop and began writing, not giving my mind chance to think of any mundane tasks to waste time over.
Also, quite unexpectedly, I got another short story idea from work this morning, via an ear wigged conversation over heard from the toilet. (strange where you get ideas from)
I'm now up to chapter 6 of my novel and strangely enough, its still going well. Sometimes I burn out and abandon them after chapter 3, but not this time. I did a detailed and complete synopsis, a time line and I make notes chapter by chapter, high lighting all the important points along the way, that way, if I need to go back to a certain point, I know exactly where it is and don't have to waste an entire week looking for it. Maybe this will be the one. Maybe it will make me rich or at least a little better off or maybe it will simply be dumped in the box marked 'HOMELESS' under my bed as so many of its predecessors have.
I've almost completed another short story for my collection, that's 6 so far. They're all printed out and sitting in a plastic wallet, except for this latest one as my computer and printer still aren't on speaking terms. I've even got the title for the short story collection; A SLICE OF DEATH A PINCH OF MADNESS. What do you think, catchy eh? I've got 20 stories selected for it, (6 down 14 to go) they've all got titles with notes attached, I just don't seem to be able to find the time to write them. I've still got last months writing magazine to read yet, I haven't even looked at it and the new one comes out this week.
I went down to Folkestone on Saturday for my granddaughters 11th birthday, the weather was cold, but lovely and sunny, so we headed to the beach. The tide was out so we went onto the marina sands where the fishing boats are kept and I got a few photos of some seaweed hung caves and, yes you've guessed it, another story idea, they seem to be coming thick and fast lately. Even the journey inspired another story entitled 'THE NIGHT TRAIN' but as this piece suggests, too many stories too little time.
I've been wandering around the web a bit more lately and urge any would be horror writers to check out the 'horror tree'. Its an on line guide to magazines accepting submissions, the payment is small and sometimes exposure only, but its better than nothing and we've all got to start somewhere. Maybe one of us will be lucky enough to be spotted via one of our stories.
Once again I wish you all the very best of luck with your submissions, until next week . . . .
Its been a busy past week. Firstly the offending tooth has gone, ripped out on Tuesday and consigned to the tooth fairy trashcan. (I'm sure there's a story in there somewhere)
As expected my shifts have all changed this week, but as I said before, it could work in my favour as it has today. I was on an early this morning which freed up the afternoon and evening for writing. Arriving home about 3pm, I grabbed my laptop and began writing, not giving my mind chance to think of any mundane tasks to waste time over.
Also, quite unexpectedly, I got another short story idea from work this morning, via an ear wigged conversation over heard from the toilet. (strange where you get ideas from)
I'm now up to chapter 6 of my novel and strangely enough, its still going well. Sometimes I burn out and abandon them after chapter 3, but not this time. I did a detailed and complete synopsis, a time line and I make notes chapter by chapter, high lighting all the important points along the way, that way, if I need to go back to a certain point, I know exactly where it is and don't have to waste an entire week looking for it. Maybe this will be the one. Maybe it will make me rich or at least a little better off or maybe it will simply be dumped in the box marked 'HOMELESS' under my bed as so many of its predecessors have.
I've almost completed another short story for my collection, that's 6 so far. They're all printed out and sitting in a plastic wallet, except for this latest one as my computer and printer still aren't on speaking terms. I've even got the title for the short story collection; A SLICE OF DEATH A PINCH OF MADNESS. What do you think, catchy eh? I've got 20 stories selected for it, (6 down 14 to go) they've all got titles with notes attached, I just don't seem to be able to find the time to write them. I've still got last months writing magazine to read yet, I haven't even looked at it and the new one comes out this week.
I went down to Folkestone on Saturday for my granddaughters 11th birthday, the weather was cold, but lovely and sunny, so we headed to the beach. The tide was out so we went onto the marina sands where the fishing boats are kept and I got a few photos of some seaweed hung caves and, yes you've guessed it, another story idea, they seem to be coming thick and fast lately. Even the journey inspired another story entitled 'THE NIGHT TRAIN' but as this piece suggests, too many stories too little time.
I've been wandering around the web a bit more lately and urge any would be horror writers to check out the 'horror tree'. Its an on line guide to magazines accepting submissions, the payment is small and sometimes exposure only, but its better than nothing and we've all got to start somewhere. Maybe one of us will be lucky enough to be spotted via one of our stories.
Once again I wish you all the very best of luck with your submissions, until next week . . . .
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