The Trials of a Chameleon

My days are often over before I am even aware they have begun.
It's so frustrating. The thing is, I am a very introverted person caught in an extrovert's life. It's tiring and my creative mind is having difficulty working properly under so much stress. No. I cannot back off. Years ago I decided my sons would not be hindered by my quirky, hermit self. We are booked most nights of the week and now that Scouting has started for this school year, we are also booked most weekends.
It's overwhelming when I want to be my writer self.
As a teenager I would go out on nice autumn days and stretch out on a large tree that had fallen across a creek and just lie there and daydream and think. After awhile I would go in and begin writing. Or, if I didn't fall asleep on the log first, I would hop down and curl up against a hollowed out tree and write in my journal.
These days are over.
I have become hyperactive. It is very difficult for me to even just sit and watch a movie and do nothing else. There are days when it finally becomes too much and I will just sit in the shower and cry. That sounds so horribly girly, but cut me some slack. I only cry for a minute or two before I realize such silliness doesn't accomplish anything, then I pull myself up by my bootstraps and trudge on.
What's the point? Who cares? The gals who have read Filter care. They want to read the second book and I am trying to write it not from my practical mind but from my creative mind. Good grief, maybe I should change my pen name to Sybil. Thing is, it takes a lot of time to slip away, for the worries of the day to melt into the background, to stop thinking about reviews and the bills I can't pay because I'm not selling enough books and how I should really just get a real job with a steady paycheck and benefits. I'm good out there in the business world, in the world of broadcast journalism....but I am also a dreamer, a drifter, a bit of a flake. I'm kind of like Madonna, only with stronger morals and more clothes and sans the personal trainer. I can redefine myself to fit the moment. But now, with writing becoming my job...I find that the practical and creative sides of my worlds have crashed together.
How to be one and the other all at once?

Copyright!

I have successfully obtained the copyright for my novel, which is now titled, Filter. It will be the first book in the series, I have already started on book 2. By the end of this week the final edit should be done and Filter should be up on Kindle. Hope it is. By then I might chicken out and decide it's all a bunch of stuff and nonsense and no one should even pay the .99 for it. Maybe not. We'll see. Oh it's so scary!

This Writer Will Self-Destruct...

It is not my wish to blog right now.

I am in a moment of Self-pity whispering to me that this blog is stupid and no one's reading and I'm just embarrassing myself and wasting precious time.

These are the days we must be certain to write.

We cannot give in to the anti-muse.

Perhaps this blog is indeed stupid and no one gives it a second chance, but it lets my soul breathe. We are writers.

We must write.

If we don't we deny ourselves of who we truly are.

This may seem random, but my husband is a chef. He thinks about food all the time. Not just eating it, but creating it. It's a joy to watch him in the kitchen with all his passion oozing out of him. It's a beautiful thing, to watch the creator create.

And maybe we can't eat our creations, but they do sustain us.

And just like with cooking and eating, sometimes our creations, our words, can give us groaning in our inward places.

I am so happy that my husband is a creative person. A different kind of creative person. He understands that even though the laundry is piling up and our youngest smells kind of off and could use a bath and I still haven't done my homework, there are times when I must write or edit a video or something. My spirit gets anxious and I start to get cranky if I don't give voice to my passions. He is so good to me. Of course, he can't talk when he comes home at 11 pm and starts cooking up some beef tenderloin with blackberry wine and onions.

This is why I've gained weight.

So, even when you are certain your work is crap, write anyway.

It may very well be crap, but if you don't write, you won't improve.

And most importantly, if you don't write, you will self-destruct.

Creative Laryngitis

The most difficult aspect of beginning to write again is admitting that you've lost your creative voice and accepting that you're going to have to write a lot of crap in order to get it back. There are days when I just shake my head and walk away from the computer and shut out all the voices in my head.

Who am I kidding? That I can write?

I ask myself these questions daily.

It's ridiculous, but I cling to my sister's high school speech teacher. When I was in 8th grade he read the beginning of one of my novels and was amazed by the strength of my written voice...

O, to be in 8th grade again!

I have never mourned my high school days, but when trying to play the part of a writer I do begin to long for those days with no responsibilities. All day could be spent reading and writing....

It is difficult as a wife and mother and student to find time for your imaginary world. It needs room to breathe, writers need room to daydream and wonder off in their thoughts.

Right now I am at school. As soon as I walked into the studio and flipped on the lights another student was behind me. And now more have followed. There is no solitude for my struggling voice this morning.

I'm beginning to miss my characters, having not written in two days now. Their voices and troubles are so strong in my thoughts. If that makes sense.

And again, I ask myself: Who am I kidding?

Indeed.