I started writing back in elementary school and entered my first contest at eight.
I went down to the local library where all the entries were displayed and mine was the only one without a ribbon of some sort.
And quit writing.
Only it’s hard to quit something in your blood. It’s hard to stop your heart beating. It’s hard to stop breathing.
I came back to writing time and again and then walked away when struggling under my disappointment. Yay, I sold the option on my film script. Whaaa, it mouldered in a desk drawer somewhere and never saw the light of day.
Laughing. But life is funny like that.
When my son was 3 and not yet diagnosed with ASD, I was going crazy. I needed something for myself.
I saw a short post from my cousin on Nanowrino and bam, I was writing again.
I published in 2015 to a total lack of fan fare. Apparently you need to do more than write a quality novel. LOL. Cough, cough, hello marketing.
And I was so close to quitting again. There were so many things I could say to talk myself out of continuing as an author. I bet you’ve said them a time or two yourself.
A) My family needs me to handle other things during this time I spend writing.
B) It’s just an expensive hobby, nothing will ever come of it.
C) No one reads your words, why write them?
All fabulously self-defeating ideas. I’ve heard it said, no one writes for fun, we write because we have to. There I was in midst of I should, but wait, I have to…..
When along comes Dan and his flipping anthology.
Just a short couple thousand words, in a month, in the horror genre. Say what?
“No way. So not doing that. What would be the point? You don’t write horror? You can’t write anything that sells anyway.”
I had no answers for the voice.
But, as usually happens with my good ideas, I was in bed, half asleep, right on the edge of almost out, watching my brain run along unchecked, when
I thought, hrm…yes…that might work.
What do you know, practically wrote itself. Some edits, a few betas, some more edits.
Now I am part of a best selling anthology.
That voice that gives all those reasons I shouldn’t write says “Yours is so the worst story in book.”
But that part of me who gives voice to the need to write says “Fuck you. I’d rather be the worst of the best than silent.”
The process has given me the impetus to finish my sophomore novel editing, order a cover from my designer, and set about getting cover blurbs from anthology members.
Thanks Dan, I probably owe you a kidney or something, let me know if you need to collect.