Ode to the Struggling Writer…
I don’t know why I agonize
Does it matter if it’s “just” or “only”?
No one will ever read it anyways
It’s just for my eyes
Or is it only?
Still….
I continue anyways
Some dim hope glimmers
And pushes
Despite the meaningless I feel.
As time ticks by
I ebb and flow
But unlike the Moon
It matters to me.
And that is all I know.
So, I’ve started going over my novel again after about a month of inactivity. It’s one of my summer goals to finish up the editing.
Admittedly, I did not want to do this. Thoughts kept running through my mind of, “Is this really my calling? Why am I wasting my time again? Maybe I should just give up…”
But you know me. Giving up is not an option and I don’t like to lose so I began. I made little changes here and there that I actually liked. And after about 2 hours of working on my first chapter, I ended the session with a bit of a high, thinking, “Okay, so this is better.”
And encouragement to continue in this endeavor.
I am also learning stuff about writing from my kids homeschool curriculum. Where was this stuff when I was a kid? I continually think my education was severely deprived or at least hindered when I see what my 8 year old and 7 year old are learning. And at their age!
They are learning stuff I don’t even know! In a way it makes me jealous, gives me incredible hope for them, and inspires me that you can teach an old dog new tricks (our saying for the week we are learning!).
It feels good to be back on track again. I just pray this continues for the immediate future, long enough to finish this project and start seeking an agent for it.
Yet most importantly I feel continually blessed by God every day of my life. I know no matter what happens He is there, always, by my side, cheering me on and holding me up. Forever.
I’m writing the synopsis this morning of my YA novel and I’m thinking the whole time, “This novel sucks! Is this what I’m supposed to be doing with my life?”
I’m thinking of all the time I have spent working on this novel and the worst-case scenario flashes before my mind: just another word document on my computer. Just like all of my other novels and non-fiction work.
I’m frustrated, no doubt. I think my stuff is good but if I can’t convince anyone else of that then it’s worthless and just a bunch of wasted time.
I never call myself a writer. I just don’t. Sure, I have a blog but so do lots of other people. I would like to definitively say, “Yes, I’m a writer.” But I just don’t. I guess I don’t feel like one until I have something published. Otherwise, I feel like a tinker. When I say this, I mean one who works with something in an unskilled manner, an experimenter, a fiddler.
I fiddle. I tinker. I experiment. Not create, enthrall, or inspire.
Sigh. I feel this as God’s calling, but I also feel frustrated when I languish. Give me something here, Lord. Anything!
Words of encouragement only get me so far. I’m results oriented.
And right now it seems like results are light-years away.
I was working on my query letter this morning, tinkering with the wording because I have it almost where I want it when I was struck by a thought: this query letter is better than my book! I’d better make my book just as good!
So, I began tinkering on my novel again….my finished novel–at least what I had previously thought was finished.
I have had this problem with all of my work. It’s never finished. I’m constantly tinkering and it drives me up the wall!
I’m wondering if anyone else has this problem. Just now, I was tinkering some more (well, since I had already started, why stop now?).
I can’t stop myself. I tell myself I’m done. Then I’m at it again.
So, I’m wondering: Is a novel ever finished? And when? When it’s in print and you can’t make any more changes? This I see as my scenario.
Any comments would be most welcome (especially ones saying I’m not crazy!).
Have I said this before? It seems like I say this all the time.
I am editing….again….and it’s driving me up the wall. I keep changing stuff, hopefully making it better, but it’s such a slow process. I hate it. And I don’t use hate lightly.
Nothing about this is easy. Nothing about this is fun. Nothing about this is uplifting, inspiring, or even tolerable.
I keep praying I get this thing published mainly for one reason: so I can hire someone to edit my future work henceforth.
It’s boring. I know this stuff like the back of my hand. It’s mind-numbing. It’s outright awful.
This will be my last time. I just can’t take it anymore! I am just praying for the fortitude to finish this round and quickly.
I thought (for some stupid reason), This’ll be easy. Just one more quick read-through before querying. It’ll only take a couple of days. Wrong again.
I should have known better. It’s not quick. I guess I just tell myself this so I’ll do it. Because once I start it gets done.
But only from God’s will, not mine. I would have given up long ago.
There’s a place I go, inside myself,
Where nobody else can be,
And none of my friends can tell it’s there–
Nobody knows but me.
It’s hard to explain the way it feels,
Or even where I go.
It isn’t a place in time or space,
But once I’m there, I know.
It’s tiny, it’s shiny, it can’t be seen,
But it’s big as the sky at night…
I try to explain and it hurts my brain
But once I’m there, it’s right.
There’s a place I know inside myself,
And it’s neither big nor small,
And whenever I go, it feels as though
I never left at all.
This is a children’s poem written by Dennis Lee who apparently has written many volumes of poems for kids. I picked up a small compilation at the library.
This poem spoke to me when I read it. I know I have a place I like to retreat to when the going gets tough. I always wonder about my kids. They live so much in their little worlds that I imagine they have rooms and rooms of these places.
I like to think I have one of these places where God dwells and I can go and have a cup of coffee with Him and chat. I know He’s there; it’s the finding Him that is the tricky part.
I have been anxious to begin querying on my novel. I’ve been this way since I finished really. Last week, I thought I was done so I began to write my query letter. I worked on it some more this morning when I read something on the internet that made me decide to rip apart my first and second chapters.
So, I spent 2 hours this morning doing just that. Fine. But I’m just that much further from being done.
Then I had a thought that I usually always have when I’m writing a book: does it really matter anyways? Will anyone ever read this? Does anyone care but me?
It’s just frustrating. People think writing is easy. It’s not. Far from it. It’s constant second-guessing. Constant wondering if this sounds right, if this is saying what I think it’s saying, and if anyone will ever read this stuff beyond, well, me.
And when the tough part is over (completing a novel) then the selling begins (an even tougher part for me)–convincing someone my novel is worth something to someone else besides me.
I dread this part but yet it’s the most important element. I’m taking my time on this one, trying not to screw this one up. Trying not to screw any of it up really.
So I pray and hope and keep working and maybe one day…
Ever have one of those days where everything you write is crappy?
That’s my day today. Nothing sounds right. Everything is repetitive. No brilliant thoughts or analogies. Just plain and simple and to be frank, horrible, words strung together. My 7 year old can write better than this sometimes. Every word stinks worse than a skunk on a hot summer day.
I think I’d rather have writer’s block than these days because I get the sense I’m a failure. I keep thinking, “This sucks! Maybe I’m not meant to be a writer. I should just quit now and forever hold my peace.”
Writer’s block is legitimate. It’s where nothing comes to mind. But it’s something you work through or just return later when the creative juices are flowing.
Bad writing is a sense you can never improve this stuff so why bother. The only solution is to stop and come back later. But I always wonder, “Will it get better later or can you improve something that is just bad?”
There are bad writers out there and these days I list myself amongst them. I just pray I’m a good writer tomorrow.
Finding kids books these days with God even mentioned is a challenge. Finding good kids books with God mentioned is an even bigger challenge.
I’m reading Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, an adaptation of the original by Miguel de Cervantes by Margaret Hodges for kids.
In chapter two, Don Quixote famously takes on the windmills, thinking they are giants. Sancho, his faithful companion who thinks Don Quixote is crazy but goes along with him anyways, being promised a kingdom as his reward. He’s the king so his wife would be the queen.
“My wife wouldn’t be worth two cents as a queen,” replied Sancho. “She would do better as a countess, and even then, God help her.”
“Leave it in God’s hands,” said the knight, “but don’t be satisfied with any title less than governor.”
After his fight with the windmills:
Don Quixote: “In the end, my good sword will prevail over his (the magician who turned the giants into windmills) evil arts.”
“As God wills,” Sancho replies.
Later, Don Quixote tells Sancho to not defend him against knights he fights as it’s against the laws of chivalry.
“I promise,” said Sancho. “I will keep that law as strictly as I keep the Sabbath.”
I wish every book I read that these truths in it. I wish I had some of these responses in my life’s situations.
How many times have I wished I said or even had the attitude or belief in challenging situations of “As God wills”? Or “Leave it in God’s hands and don’t be satisfied with any less”? How many times should I have responded “But God knows me, and that is enough” to a situation instead of with anger, resentment, and hostility?
This is great stuff for me. I recognize it when I read it but my kids only absorb it subconsciously, storing it later for future use.
This book has constant references to God:
“May God guide you”, “God be with you”, “God speed you”, “May God preserve you”, “But God knows me, and that’s enough”, “Liberty is one of heaven’s best gifts. A man should risk even his life for liberty”, “In God’s hands be it”
Don Quixote gives advice to Sancho:
“First, fear God. Second, remember who you are…”
“Remember that you have not earned this favor by your own merit”
“Don’t speak harshly to the man you have to punish; the pain of the punishment is enough…” [I substituted kids for man here.] “Show mercy, for the mercy of God shines more brightly in our eyes than His justice.”
Why do we have to go back 400 years old to get such rich stories filled with God-fearing characters as memorable as Don Quixote and Sancho? Characters who live out “As God wills”. Characters who everyone else thinks are wacko but they themselves have the strength and conviction to stick to their beliefs. Neither care what others think of them. They are the butt of practical jokes but both adhere to their beliefs better than superglue. They follow their true North.
They live their lives following their hearts and God is in their hearts.
I pray I can write such stories; ones that will reflect God’s will yet make an impact in young people’s hearts. My goal is to make Him known, subtly, through my character’s struggles and responses to life situations and live out “As God wills.”
I’ve spent the last few days concentrating on editing my novel. Today was especially good because I finished reviewing the whole text again for the sixth or seventh time.
But, now I’m finding my excitement waning as I know the hard part is still ahead.
I got a critique back on my previous novel, basically ripping me for numerous things including character characterization contradictions, passive tense, telling not showing, and much more.
So, now I have to review my novel with these things in mind, looking for each specific problem–one at a time. Which is fine but I’d rather be writing instead of editing. This is where the real tediousness begins…
But I’m determined not to rush this one and make it as good as I can.
So, I’m going to have to take my list of edits from the top and work my way down (cringing the whole way). But until I am Stephenie Meyers and can pay someone to do this for me this is what will get me an agent and a publishing deal.
So as much as I hate it, I’m gonna suck it up and get to work. What are my other options? This is my passion, my purpose. No one said it would be easy.