writing

No Excuses

So….

I have this new laptop, so I really have no excuse not to write.

I have a framework that I pounded out with an agent, (at HER INSISTENCE!) so I have no excuse not to write.

I have an entire evening free, and most of tomorrow, and tomorrow evening free. I have no excuse not to write.

Why is it so hard for me to get started?

* * * * *

The other day, I was remembering how much fun I had when I was writing Only Yours. I spent EVERY free moment writing, and when I wasn’t writing, I was thinking about writing. Or talking about my characters as though they were real people. It gave me so much joy to work on that project.

Now, it’s like a weight. A constant dialogue in my head.
“You SHOULD be writing. You’re going to let people down if you don’t write. Oh great, you just wrote more CRAP. What is your problem? See these other authors? See your friends? See how they pound out great stuff? See how he got another book deal? See how she hit NYT? See how she finally got that offer? Oh look, that one went to auction. Why can’t YOU do that???”

When I am at work, all I do is sit there thinking “I can’t WAIT to get home and write.”

I get home and make excuses.

“The neighbor’s TV/stereo/sex-sounding workout is too loud.”
“I have to see what’s on email, Facebook, LiveJournal first.”
“Let me play a quick game or five of Anagrams.”
“Oh, I should see if Adam’s online.”

Well, Adam’s at work now. The neighbors are finally quiet. I’ve checked email/Facebook/Livejournal. I’ve already played Anagrams. So now what’s my problem?

* * * * *

The ideas are in my head. I can’t seem to get them out. Something is blocking me.

* * * * *

Fear

* * * * *

I’m afraid of failing.
I’m afraid of writing another 20K words and then realizing this doesn’t work either.
I’m afraid of finishing a book and having a crit partner tell me NO NO NO.
I’m afraid of finishing it, and having my agent reject it.
I’m afraid I don’t have another good book in me.
I’m afraid I won’t feel the magic I felt when I was writing Only Yours.
I’m afraid that I’m completely done.

I’m afraid that reading and editing all day mentally exhausts me, which is why when I DO buckle down, I do best on Sunday afternoons.

I’m afraid of getting started.

I’m afraid of enjoying it.
I’m afraid of succeeding.

I’m afraid of writing.

* * * * *

What if I have no more stories to tell?

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An Early Publishing Credit

I was eighteen, and I’d graduated from high school earlier that summer. Some of the Mousketeers from the All New Mickey Mouse Club came to Cleveland to promote their new album MMC (I have two copies, one of them still sealed!). I’d wanted to originally interview one of the ‘teers for the teen section of The Plain Dealer (called Next), but someone beat me and my best friend Charla to it. So, I got the next best thing. I got to review the record.

Disney sent me a press kit with photos, a press release, and a copy of the MMC CD. But I’d already had the CD—I’d won it in a contest for Teen Beat a few months prior (along with a water bottle and a signed poster. Now, mind you, after meeting them, I had tons of signed MMC stuff, so that just added to my collection.) So I was ready to review it.

This wasn’t my first publishing credit, but it was the first article I actually got paid money for. You can click the picture for a larger, more readable size. :)

I even have the little slip of paper that says how much I got paid, and what for. I had a lot of confidence in my writing back then. I hope I can get it back soon.

(fyi – commenting is closed to anonymous and non-friends until Sunday. just a precaution…)

(Originally published at Anywhere Is…)

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Crap

I tried, dang it. I tried to leave the writing world forever and ever amen.

It keeps pulling me back.

Why????

Okay, I know damn well why. I guess I simply can’t escape what’s a part of me.

*heads grudgingly back to keyboard*

(Originally published at Anywhere Is…)

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Rambling (Pictures)

I picked up two interesting books at the library today. One, the title I will not disclose to protect the um… not so innocent. The other is The Twinkies Cookbook by Hostess. Among some of the recipes I’d like to try:

Twinkie Easter Egg Hunt – uses Twinkies, maraschino cherries, marshmallow creme, chocolate chips, and jelly beans, and chocolate pudding mix. Probably 9,000 calories, but fun.
Twinkie Burrito – tortillas, chocolate sauce, Twinkies, and strawberries.
Twinkie Kebabals – Twinkies, fruit, marshmallows, and wooden skewers.
Twinkie Fantasy – Twinkies, strawbery Jell-O, strawberries, vanilla pudding mix, whipped topping.

There is even a gorgeous Twinkie wedding cake.

I think I need to buy this book.

But I will NOT be trying the “Twinkies with Meat” recipes in the back. Ewwww.

I want gift cards to Barnes & Noble or Borders! Guess what’s on my list this Christmas. It’s a small one. Heh.

Speaking of bookstores, I found this in the window of Cover to Cover today:

Yay for adamselzer!

Boo to the downstairs neighbor and his loud-ass media equipment.

You know, I don’t get it. Why is HE allowed to play his stereo/TV/video games as loud as he wants, but let Aidan run down the hall once every three weeks and the neighbor lady screams her head off like he’s making constant noise all the time? I swear, the reasons against living here in Columbus are stacking up so quickly it’s almost knocking me over. Only about 400 or so days ’til I move to Chicago.

In other words, I feel incredibly pathetic. A great number of my friends have dumped me. In a way that’s good, because I guess it weeds out those who shouldn’t really matter anyway, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt sometimes. The good thing about it is that when I move, I won’t be leaving a whole lot behind. The bad things is that I have well over a year to feel pathetic.

The thing is, my closest friends I talk to mainly on the Internet. There are a few local people I could call, but I have this whole ‘fear of rejection’ thing going on because just about everytime I’ve asked someone to do something in the past few months, I’ve gotten NOs. So I figure I won’t call anymore. It’s just easier that way.

Oh well. Whatever. As I said to swankivy yesterday: Ronni = loses at friendship. Even though I have 104 Facebook friends now.

Aidan was extra cute today. We had a date at McDonalds. I ordered Happy Meals for us both, and the lady gave him two toys! He got a “Gingy” and a “Donkey.” Donkey actually smelled like a donkey…

I can’t figure out why McGraw-Hill sent me an employee benefits handbook. Or how Victoria’s Secret found me and why they decided to send me a catalog.

Been rereading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. I realize I’m early, but I’ve been in the mood. Maybe this is why:

THAT’S RIGHT, FOLKS. THE HARRY POTTER ACTION FIGURE HAS BEEN TERRORIZING ME WITH UNFORGIVEABLE CURSES. I mean, erm:

Yes, Harry, I do *ahem* love *cough* you and *blink* adore you.

*runs and hides*

In other news, I’ve officially given up on writing for now. I just can’t focus, not with all the bullshit that keeps happening. Today was supposed to be my day to start back. But I can’t do it. I’m not finding joy in it anymore. I’m not finding joy in too much of anything these days, but oh well. I’ll get back to it when I am in a better headspace, not to mention life space.

Uh oh.

What’s that Harry?

He says to stop whining and get off here. So I’m off.

Later.

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