Author's Note

It is the eternal conflict of the writer – one must be sure of one’s talent and skill, but not arrogant.  This came to me last night as I was working on a new anthology submission for Soylent Publications. 

When I get close to the end of the story, it’s common for me to be assailed with self-doubt.  I hope and I pray that I will be so deeply immersed in the story creation that I’ll type “The End” before this happens, but sadly, it’s not often the case.  Instead, I’ll be typing along, following the mental sign posts in my head (turn left for plot twist, emotional dip ahead), when the all important “The End Is Near” sign shows up.  And self-doubt creeps in with ninja-like stealth.  I start to think that maybe this is going in the wrong direction entirely, maybe I need to go back to the beginning, oh here’s some recurring symbols I should have been sprinkling in all along.  Let me go and do that.  Then the siren song of delaying the inevitable begins in the form of laundry/dishes/cat box. 

Self-doubt tells me the story isn’t good enough, so why even finish it in the first place?  Why set myself up for inevitable rejection by finishing the sucker, then starting the rounds of magazine and publisher submissions.  I could be kibitzing on Facebook, you know…

And here is where the writer must find that well of confidence in his/her soul and forge on ahead.  If I did not find that confidence, then my hard drive would be littered with the half-finished remains of stories that never quite finished the birthing process.  Sure, I have a few like that, but the number that I’ve seen it through with outnumbers the ones that have fallen by the wayside, half-finished.  But once that reserve of confidence is breeched, a writer has to be careful not to go too far in the other direction, because an arrogant writer does not believe that there is anything else to learn and that his/her prose is always perfect. 

But no one, not even the greatest luminaries of the literary constellations, is perfect.  It is the dichotomy of the writer – confident enough to send stories out into the world believing someone will want to read them, and full of enough self-doubt to constantly strive to be a better writer.

This is a quote I need to tape to the side of my monitor, memorize, and/or paint on my wall.  We writers should not forget this. 

“All considerations of language, of ideas, of symbols and metaphors serve only one function: to convey the soul of a living being to the soul of other living beings and in that process break us out of our isolation and loneliness and put us in touch with the universal spirit.”

~ Floyd Salas

So Saturday my newest issue of Writer’s Digest came in the mail, emblazoned with all those catchy headlines designed to attract writers like moths to a flame.  This month’s headlines seem to focus on productivity, encouraging the muse, finding time to write, and making the most out of the time you do find.  Given that I am embarking on the longest writing project of my life and I’m always kvetching about not having time to write, my inner writer was squealing, “Ooooooo, Shiny!”  Of course, since it’s the January issue, its probably just that they know a lot of writers and would-be-writers are doing the New Year’s resolution thing and these types of articles are going to move magazines at this time of year. 

I finally had some time to settle down with an article last night just before bed.  The article I chose was about making time to write.  Pretty much nothing it said was new to me, but it did make something click in my head.  I had the kind of epiphany that makes you slap your forehead and say, “DUH!” Which scares the cat and she gives you the “bitch, please” look but at that point you’re too distracted by your shiny new epiphany to notice. 

And the epiphany is (insert drumroll please) – using little pockets of time, like 20 minutes or less.  The article author refers to them as “mini-retreats.”  The idea is so very simple.  Arrive early for an appointment and write before you go in.  Put the casserole for dinner in the oven and write while it bakes.  On your commute to or from the office, stop in the local coffee shop and write for 10-15 minutes.  What makes this even more of a duh for me is that I used to do precisely this thing back when I was in grad school and working full time.  It was the only way the copious amounts of reading I needed to do ever got done.  I always had a textbook with me and I read everywhere, even at stop lights (yes, I know that wasn’t particularly safe, but I never had an accident).  Now I just need to get back into that habit, except with my laptop/notebook instead of a textbook. 

Now, I know this isn’t my preferred mode of writing.  I like having long stretches of time where I can really shake loose and stretch out.  There’s time to get up and pace while I twist around a plot point in my head.  I feel like I can stare out into space for minutes at a time to find the right word, instead of feeling rushed because I only have 10 minutes and I’ve got to get as much down on paper as possible.  But beggars, or full-time office workers, can’t be choosers.  I have to keep my day job, it’s what pays the bills, so I don’t have the luxury of long stretches if time on a regular basis.  Until I make it big enough in the publishing world I’m going to have to make do with small pockets of time.  Even if I can only write a few sentences here and there, sentences add up to paragraphs and paragraphs add up to pages, pages add up to chapters and chapters add up to novels.  Mini-retreat, here I come…