I received a lovely surprise in my mailbox today, an Advanced Reader’s Copy of a friend’s upcoming new book. It’s cold and rainy here today – a perfect day for cuddling up with a book and a warm drink. I’ve read the first few pages, and it looks to be a good one. I can’t wait to delve further into it.
Reading the written word of someone I know is so inspiring and motivating. It makes me feel like I could actually be a writer, too. Reading another’s work and becoming a writer myself are two vastly different things, however. When I sit down to write, the words either sound so clichéd or boring. Conversations of the characters are stilted, sentences are too simplistic, plots are thin and predictable, and the story peters out before it even starts. I have all these great ideas in my head, but they don’t transfer to paper. I feel that way about some of my blog posts, too. They sounded good at the time, but when I go back and re-read them, they sound foolish and strange.
So how do others do it? Some write, write, write, rewrite and write, write, write again. They send their completed projects off to publishers to be rejected again and again. Today writers can self-publish and hope for the best. I don’t know if that would be better or not. What if I self-publish and no one wants to read it? Would I feel crushed and give up or would I just keep writing and publishing and trying?
I have read some pretty lame books, and I’ve given up on many that I’ve downloaded or purchased that sounded so promising. Once you start them, they’re childish or just plain stupid, and they become a major waste of time. Sometimes you read on, hoping the writer redeems themselves before the end, but it’s not to be. The book stays lame the entire way through. Those are the times I tell myself that I could do better. Maybe I just don’t have the time to be a good or successful writer. I work full-time, and I attend school part-time. Perhaps being a writer, too, is too much to hope for.
I tried penning a children’s chapter book during last year’s NaNoWriMo, and I loved writing it. I had the best time with it. I look back and read parts and pieces of it, and I think some parts of it are pretty cute, but that’s as far as it’s gone. I don’t have the energy or the desire to do the editing and the rewrites that it needs. Maybe someday I will. Maybe I need to hang out with more writers. Maybe I should take a writing class. Hey, there’s an idea.
Thank you, Andra, for inspiring me to think that I, too, might someday be a writer. I very much enjoyed your first novel, and I am looking forward to reading the memoir. Perhaps you will push me to progress some with my own author’s aspirations.