My Writing Journey

Sometimes when I am uncertain what I should be working on, what deserves my attention most, I reread all my first chapters. There are many of them. So many I don't want to count. And they are terrible. Well, not all of them. The one I am currently reading isn't half bad. Still, it feels as if I am drowning in first chapters and that is defeating. Even worse, most of my chapter ones don't have endings. A lot of them aren't finished. I suppose I can seek comfort in that. Perhaps I can simply call those ideas instead of chapters.

Ideas I have yet to invest time, energy, and love into.

I know a lot of writers. By a lot, I mean most of the people on my Facebook page. Almost all of them are people I've picked up along my writing journey. Now, I've been writing my whole life, but I don't actually consider my birth the beginning of my writing journey. I consider the year I finished Seeking Eleanor to be the actual beginning of my journey. The moment I actually started learning what it takes to write a book and be an author.

The year was 2004. I actually can't recall when I completed her for certain. I was working at Yellow Pages and letting Rebs read it chapter by chapter. We shared a cubicle wall. It was friendship at first rude interruption. She was super encouraging. I doubt the book would have been completed if not for her. This is why I promised her an assistant job if I ever hit it rich and famous. We all make promises we probably won't ever have the chance to keep.

Once Seeking Eleanor was done, I grew as a writer. I'd say flourished, but that is deceiving. Makes it sound far too easy. As if a little water and sunshine and, just like that, I became this wonderful writing flower. Wisteria. In reality, it was a struggle. There was so much I needed to know, like the rules, so I could make the conscious decision to toss them out the window. I've never been a rules girls. In the following months, and subsequently years, that followed, I perfected tense, learned about character arcs, figured out saving the cat, overused wordle, and recognized my lust for adverbs. Oh, and I have yet to plot a book out.

It's been a long road. Sometimes I think I should be farther along. You know, it's been almost ten years, and I don't have that traditional publishing contract. I'm not being paid to write. And most people don't know who I am. I'm a nobody. Chances are I will remain a nobody for the remainder of my life, and that's okay. The struggle is part of the fun, right? In the end, the self doubts and uncertainty doesn't matter. In the end, the publishing contract doesn't matter. In the end, not being paid to write wicked words doesn't matter.

Because I still love writing. And I think that's what counts.

Wordy Wednesday

The word: Phantasmagoria

This is explained as an ever-changing scene that is confounding or strange and reminds you of a dream. Or, a shifting series of phantasms, illusions, or deceptive appearances as created by the imagination. Honestly, I just love the way this word sounds. There is a classiness to it. A fantastical eerie feel to it. I've never actually used it in a sentence, but one of these days I hope to.

After doing a bit of reading, I've discovered phantasmagoria is a form of theatre where people used seemingly magical lanterns to project spooky images onto walls, either with smoke, light or screens. With a mobile projector, the images could move and change in size, either growing bigger and smaller. This form of theatre came from France in the late 18th century but gained popularity in the 19th century in Europe (especially with the English.)

Phantasmagoria, and the usage of this magic lantern, which was really just a candle and concave mirror, is actually still used today, though the lanterns are modernized. Have you ever been to Disneyland? When you're on the Haunted Mansion ride and your cart turns around only for you to see a ghost between you and whoever you're riding with? This is phantasmagoria!

In fact, this ride utilizes this form of theatre a lot. Consider all those spectres you see along the way. Not to ruin it for you, but those are all created by a projector, which is nothing more than a modern day magic lantern.

And So It Begins ... Again

Last night, I couldn't sleep. At four, I was wide awake, but knowing I had to work, I hung out in bed. Hoping to drift in and out, so not to be a zombie while interacting with the public. From what I hear, no one like chatting with a drooling, lurching, unkempt woman with dark circles under her eyes.

In order to take my mind off what was keeping me awake, I started thinking about these ideas I have for books. There are these two I've been mulling over in my head for a couple months. One of them actually has been simmering in my brain stew for close to two years. Crazy, right? 

So, anyhow, last night at half past four, I came up with the first line to the one I've been thinking about the longest. Now, I was going to share it here, but I suddenly got all weird about putting it out into the world. As if someone is going to steal the first line to the book I have only penned a thousand words of. Sometimes I'm so silly. Besides, what's the chances the first line will even stay the same. Unlikely, right? I mean, none of my books have the same first lines they originally had! And yet, I'm still here waffling. 

Moving right along.  

Here's the thing - it's a vampire novel. Yes, vampires. You don't have to say it. I already know what you're thinking. I am thinking it too. There's this feeling at the nape of my neck and it makes me feel as if I'm wasting my time. Vampires are overdone, right? Vampire Diaries, True Blood, Vampire Diaries, Vampire Academy, Anne Rice's books, Bloodlines, Marked and it goes on and on. Still, there's this little, tiny, mouse-like voice that is saying this will be different. My humblest opinion - the idea is rather ingenious. Not to pat my own back or anything, but there will be blood and darkness and true vampire lore. 

So, I started writing it. Mostly because I had a first line, but also because my early morning pondering finally made it clear where the beginning is. Honestly, I don't know what this is going to turn into - what with not plotting - and that excites me. I think this will be another 'for me' book, much like my pirate novel The Reign of Billie Blackwater. This will be something I write just for myself with the hopes someone else will see the beauty in the darkness. 

And so it begins ... again. 

If you are a writer, how long do you mull an idea before beginning? Do you wait for a certain point to start? Are you a plotter? And if you are a reader, do you like reading about people who are writing and their creative processes? 

A Million Words

Over the last year, I've been writing a book for my mother. When I first moved to the island, I sat on the ferry with her, travelling from Horseshoe Bay to Departure Bay, all my belongings in a U-Haul below deck. This was one of the biggest changes of my life, leaving the mainland, but I wasn't thinking of how monumental this decision was. I sat with my mom and talked about this idea I had for a new novel. 

You know, one of those stories about the good and wicked. 

She seemed to really enjoy the premise. After mulling for a couple months, I decided to give it a go. The beginning came easily and whenever I finished a chapter or two, I'd Skype my mom and read it over the internet. In the beginning, I had a lot of time to write because I wasn't working as much and had enough energy to be creative. Once I got a job, the writing ebbed and flowed. As it goes, my imagination suffers when punching a time clock. Not that I am complaining about having work, it's just hard to craft, create and bring characters to life when you're tired and use your brain for other things, like creating Excel spreadsheets. 

 So, writing became a weekend endeavour. I worked hard to turn out those chapters. This novel, we will call her Ramona, wasn't the only thing I was working on. I had some Pankhearst projects and this alien collaboration, and a zombie thing I was dividing my time up for. Honestly, Ramona was like pulling teeth.  But I kept at it. As some of you may know, I am the Queen of putting things to the side when I lose interest in them. At the side they will sit, eating away at me, but I never seem to find the time to pick them back up and get involved again. 

Thanks to my mother's interest, I couldn't put Ramona to the side. My mom wanted to know what happened. How it ended. If everything was resolved in the end or if there were to be more books coming. And she asked about it. Asked how it was coming along. So, not wanting to let her down, I kept at it. Toiling away. Some days I'd write a paragraph, others pages, and once in awhile I'd do really good and churn out a couple chapters. Those were the best days. Days where I slipped back into those characters with ease and knew exactly where the story was going. 

That's one of the things a lot of people don't know about writing a book. 

It changes as the characters grow and as you write it. Sometimes the ending is completely different from what you thought it was going to be. This happens a lot to people like me, anti-plotters, people who don't map out where they are going, what they are doing, and how they are going to get there. What can I say, I like my freedom. 

In the end, this is the ninth book I've written on my own. Ninth. That's hard to believe. Don't get me wrong, the first eight were terrible. I've also co-wrote three novels, that are completed. And I refuse to count how many short stories I've put to virtual paper. All those words. So many of them. Thousand. Hundreds of thousands. Over a million, believe it or not. 

I have written over a million words. 

Well, that thought simply exhausts me. But before I tuck off for a nap, I want to thank my mother for her support and interest in Ramona, the clumsy book that she is. Without her I wouldn't have finished it. It's been nice having someone who cares what happens. 

In the end, Ramona is still a work in progress. After all, a first draft does not a finished novel make. There is plenty of work to do, and plenty more books to write, but for now, this one is roughly done. The fine tweaking will start, but for now she will sit and rest, until I have the courage to take another look and bring out the red pen. 

Onto the next book. 

Mindlessness

Last night, I wrote all of six words.

Six.

Impressive? No, not in the least.

Under normal circumstances, mindless television is the key to my creativity. It's something that I can drown out and still know what is going on. Noise is essential to my process. It feels silly writing that. Mostly because, do I even have a process? I usually just sit down and see where the blinking cursor takes me. This book I am trying to finish, let's call it "Ramona" - because that's the title it holds in my writing folder - is giving me a hard time. Fifty-something thousand words into it and struggling to get out the end.

It's rather annoying, really. I know what the final chapter will be, it's just getting there that's been an uphill journey through brambles on a scorching day. This is a bad place to get stuck. Most frustrating, really, when the first forty-five thousand words came spilling forth from my fingertips like they were greased up with butter and going down a slip-and-slide.

Somehow, I got sucked into the mindless television program last night.

And I wrote six words.

Six.

Instead of beating myself up about it, I'm going to try again tonight. If at first you don't succeed, and all those other catchy sayings people love.

At least I have the ability to write. I am fortunate for that. Grateful for my idea factory. The fact my laptop still boots up. And that I have the ability to watch mindless television with there being little repercussion, except another day slipping through my fingers.

Come on, Ramona. End already.

And if you really want to know what the television show was, just send me an email or something.

Settle In

For some odd and inexplicable reason, I absolutely love the phrase 'settle in'. Probably because I completely support the idea of taking time to ease yourself into a new surrounding, whether it is a living space, place of employment, coffee shop, school or anything else that involves new environments, you need to take your time. No sense rushing things. Besides, there is a very important allotment of time for you to learn your way around, like if there are stairs in your new home and you haven't had stairs in years. You have to take a few days to settle in so you don't tumble down the stairs one night on your way to the bathroom. No, I am not speaking from experience.

Moving along...

These days, I am settling into my new digs. Gaff. Home. House. Abode. Dwelling. Whatever you opt to call it, I'm adjusting. This is my period of adjustment. Meaning, I am getting used to things. And you know what, it isn't all that bad this new place I'm living.

I know a lot of you don't follow me on Instagram (I linked my account if you're interested in keeping tabs on me there). You really should, though, because I post amazing pictures everyday or my extravagant little life. If you want me to break it down, I mostly just post pictures of the dogs in my life and food I cook. Sometimes random lovely things as well. There was a stint where I posted a picture a day for a year, which I documented on my tumblr here, but Instagram allows me to post 5 pictures a day. And sure, I might be annoying, but I like documenting the things I love. It reminds me of what is important and keeps the unimportant things from the cobwebs of my overworked mind.

That said, I have been documenting my settling in on Instagram. See, I already posted a vlog  that showed the rather awesome insides of my new crib. It was titled New Home and mostly consisted of Oliver going up the stairs and the boys fighting on the bed. Totally worth a laugh. But what about the outside? What surrounds me in this new foreign place on Vancouver Island? Well, I am going to show you.

Here, in no particular order, is the happenings around town so far. I mean, there's a lot more than these ten pictures, but they will simply have to do for now. So, that's what I am doing, settling in. Once I complete this, I will regale you with my thoughts on love, life, writing and cake. You know, all the stuff I am known for rambling on and on about. Until then, enjoy the pictures and let me know what you think.

 Allen Lake

 Stone Inukshuk

 Random Bridge

 Graffiti Around Town

 Into The Mountains

 Random House Two Blocks Over

 Raging River

 Allen Lake Again

 Trees & Water

 Reflection

 Water Source

 Lots Of Biking Trails Around These Parts

 A Trail

A Dixon On A Trail

First Lines

I have been thinking about first lines lately. You know, the ones you write at the beginning of your novel to grip and entrance the reader. It's those first words that really set up the stepping stones of your novel. They can encourage you to continue crafting or tempt you to toss yourself over the side of a bridge. Okay, maybe that's a bit much.

Regardless, I got to mulling over my first lines. You see, I started this new book. It's going. Not very fast, but it is going. It took me awhile to figure out where to begin. Is it just me, or is the pressure on the first paragraph astronomical  When you set out to query agents, they are going to decide off of the first four or five pages whether they want to see more of masterpiece it took you two months to six years to complete, give or take depending on who you are and what sort of novel it is.

Anyway, the new first line to my story is:

Like some sort of post graduation cliche, I found myself working at a coffee shop called Bitches Brew, where only snarky females seemed to get hired, and living in a dive apartment with two others girls I barely knew. 

Maybe it isn't the greatest first line ever put to paper (virtual paper, that is), but it allowed me to delve deeper into the story. 

Because I love getting distracted, here are a couple first lines from three of my other novels: 

1. Most believe the decline started with the earthquakes and floods, but Falcon knew it began with greed. 

2. Despite what Carla Wells told everyone, I wasn’t jealous of her and found the idea itself insulting. 

3. When he entered the world, the odds were already stacked against him. 

First lines are both my favourite things and the bane of my existence. Only because I am being overly dramatic, though. Let's have share-fest 2013!

What are you first lines?

The Bane Of Pacing

I have been doing a whole tractor load of editing lately. It's a yours, mine and ours situation. Which, to be honest, has been rather fantastic. I know that's crazy for you to hear coming from me because editing used to be the bane of my existence, but these days, I kind of like it. Sure, it's time consuming and aggravating when I see what a juvenile writer I used to be. I mean, I'm still a child in this word-wielding game, but I see improvement. At least, that's what I call it. 

Pacing is important this yours, mine and ours writing situation for two reasons, and I shall deliver them forthwith. 

1. Pacing to a story is essential. You want to have a plot that unfolds like a butterfly emerging forth from a cocoon, or something as equally as poetic that signifies the importance of not rushing through things. This day and age, I'm seeing people catapulting themselves into their novels, they start with a bang and whizz, a huge amount of drama and, to be blunt, I'm simply not a banger and whizzer. Does that sound weird? 

Anyway, let me clarify by saying I fully encourage people to hit the ground running. I myself sort of jog along, easing myself and the reader and my characters into things. There's always important bits and bobbles in the first couple of chapters, but I view it like poker and not wanting to give my hand away right away. In my opinion, a bit of mystery is necessary. 

This said, I fear readers might not feel the same way, so I wonder if I should change. I mean, I am aware this is part of my writing style and I don't feel it weakens the words I put to virtual paper or even the blooming plot lines. Others will most likely disagree, because not everyone likes apple wine and strawberry shortcake - whatever that means. 

To be honest, I think a lot of people struggle with pacing. Not only when it comes to plot, but also sentence structure. There are many different ways to put a paragraph together. Sometimes when you read a section aloud you will see when the pace is off. It's like poetry in some ways. You want the right beats. The correct pauses. This is something I'm working on. 

2. Now, pacing yourself when editing. I believe it is a time consuming task to painstakingly go through each and every line and pick it apart only to put it back together again in the exact same way. At times, it can feel overwhelming, which is why I strongly recommend knowing your limits. Taking on too much, yeah, I'm the Queen of that. I want to help, lend a hand, but sometimes, it isn't possible. Stress is a killer. No, really. I think stress is one of the most toxic things people cater to. 

In the last couple years, I've noticed how daunting a full manuscript can feel. Finally, I understand why agents ask for the first couple of chapters or fifty pages. It doesn't seem like such a monstrous mountain. I have a couple critique partners, editing buddies, and I've come up with the chapter by chapter method. Not only is this easier on me, but I believe it to be easier on the person I'm exchanging with. Mostly because I'm ruthless with the scalpel and have the tendency not to sugar coat things. 

Here's the thing, the chapter by chapter method allows you see areas you struggle with as you go. The changes are done more easily. And, if necessary for huge plot holes, you can fix things in advance before hitting your partner with the next chapter. Also, it helps to brainstorm as you go and get feedback so you aren't walloped over the head with a bunch of suggestions for areas of improvement. 

This, of course, may not work for you, but have you ever gotten an entire manuscript back with a crap load of red all over it and wanted to shove it in a drawer and never look at it again? 

Yeah, this method prevents those crushing feelings. 

The funny part is when I sat down to write this little post I fully intended to talk about pacing in life. Then, it turned into a little rant about editing and writing. I find it interesting where my brain takes me. 

Until next time, this is Tyson, signing off. 

Planting The Seed

Yesterday, I wrote a blog post. It wasn't anything controversial, I didn't talk about how I thought kitten stomping was a good idea, and yet, somehow, a fight ensued over it. The details of the fight don't really matter. What is pertinent is why I got my back up. I am not an overly sensitive person. I get called names and mocked daily, most of it self-deprecation. After all, I'm a firm believer in not taking one's self too seriously. I mean, what's the fun in walking around thinking you're faultless and infallible? Boring is what I say to that.

Regardless, I posted the blog (my last one about the book I finished co-writing) and shared it on my Facebook. The co-author of said book excitedly passed it along to her followers and the first comment she got was from another writerly type. To say the comment was condescending and disparaging would be like saying zombies like to eat people.

Now, instead of replying hotly, I decided to ask what he meant by it. You know, because I like to give people the benefit of the doubt. (Okay, you can stop laughing now.)

Well, the belittling just kept coming!

The impression received, not only by me, but by others, was that he felt we were incapable of writing Science Fiction. That we didn't have the knowledge to pull it off accurately. And, to sum up the whole battle, that we were out of our element in even considering to write a book in this genre. It didn't seem to matter to him that this was a YA book and the sci-fi aspects all took place on Earth. Actually, he didn't even bother to ask. By the way, he hadn't actually read any of our novel.

But that's all off topic and the fighting over me taking his comments out of context or blowing them out of proportion is moot because he later admitted to thinking we "didn't have the necessary grounding in science to pull off a science fiction novel". Yep, that's a direct quote.

Let me clear something up: I don't give a crap what people say about me. I really don't. I've been called ugly, fat, told my ideas are derivative, laughed at, poked, prodded and outright harassed for years. It comes with the territory--the territory of being awesome. Just kidding. The territory of being on the Internet and accessible to countless people from all walks of life who have an abundance of time on their hands in which they can either adore or attack me.

What I do care about is what people say to others. The reason for this is fairly simple: words hurt. They do. They say sticks and stones break bones but names will never hurt and that's an outright lie. We all know it, but we sing the mantra so that our children aren't as affected by schoolyard bullies when they head off to the playground and get called a freak. In reality, words can do more damage than a slap across the face, just ask every girl who has ever been called fat. Some things just stick with you.

People don't think. That's not news. I'm not breaking ground on some new theory. It's simply fact of life that people like to voice their opinions and often don't consider how other people will take what they say. Or maybe they just don't care. The ever-growing popularity of the Internet is only making this worse. At least in person when you say something you can see the person's physical reaction. If someone flinches, blinks rapidly, flushes red or furrows their brow, it's a clear indicator that they aren't happy with something you said. On the Internet, we aren't afforded the luxury of seeing how people react to what we tell them, so we say things we might not normally let slip. But that isn't a good enough excuse. Not in my books.

I'm not saying I don't have negative opinions about people's work. Of course I do. Sometimes it's a matter of taste and other times I simply don't think someone can write, draw or sing. The difference is, I don't go out of my way to say this to them. I might discuss it with a friend, but I don't post it on their excited status update or tweet it for all their friends to see. And the reason for this is common sense, but I'm going to spell it out for the masses, or the few people who will take the time to read this.

We, the creative types that we are, need to support one another because this is a hard business and a cruel world. We need all the support, motivation, encouragement and cookies we can get. The negativity that seems to be in abundance is pointless, not to mention damaging. Lately, I've been looking at the world from a different light and I see where we have gone wrong. Instead of offering up a kind word and excitement, we often put forth skepticism, cynicism and sarcasm. While all of those things certainly have a place in this macabre world we live, it doesn't belong in our reactions to other peoples creative endeavours, especially our so-called friends. I mean, if we can't be supportive and understanding with the people we care about then how are we supposed to give it to others? And how can we expect it in return?

Can you imagine what the world would be like if we all went forth with love, hope and optimism in our hearts?

Our daily encounters would leave us light, happy and renew the passion we have for living, learning and creating. Maybe we wouldn't feel so weighted down. Maybe we wouldn't feel so alone. The world is a massive place, but we have these virtual communities that connect us and give us something we should be thankful for, except some of us don't use it in a healthy way. Instead of giving guidance and providing a shoulder to lean on, they tear people down and shake their head at their efforts.

All this does is plant the seed of doubt. And doubt is a terrible thing.

It's fear and uncertainty. Doubt derails us from the paths we are on. It rocks our self-confidence. It destroys our faith. It makes us question the things we hold dear and forces us to look at things differently, and not necessarily in the right fashion. Doubt is evil. It leaves us feeling empty and lost, broken and battered. It staunches our dreams. It cultivates unhappiness.

Which makes me wonder, why would we want to plant that in someone else? Why would we want to sow that seed? Why would we want people to doubt what they love? To doubt something they get joy from? To doubt themselves and who they are?

Words are a powerful thing. As a writer, I know that all too well. Which is why it baffled, and irked, me so much to see another writer toss his words around without a care in the world. It's unnecessary to try and bring someone down. To give them unwanted advice. To kick their excitement to death. To put them in their place or judge them.

The truth is, people aren't going to plant doubt in me. I won't be derailed from my path, but what if this guy says the same thing to someone else? Someone not as stubborn or determined as me. It might stop them from creating and being artistic. It might prevent them from taking the leap and trying something new. And that's why I got my back up. That's why we should all get our back up when we see things like this.

We need creative people. We need artists, writers, bloggers, vloggers, musicians, painters, photographers and dancers to keep doing what they are doing. It adds beauty to this world. A world so focused on everything people are doing wrong that we don't see what they are doing right. Together we should work towards eradicating doubt because it's toxic and there simply is no use for it.

Like my mother always said, think before you speak.

And like I have started to say recently, drop the negativity.

It isn't doing us any good anyways.

Sensitive Writer Syndrome

The Sensitive Writer Syndrome is a common, and complex, disorder. While there are writers who claim they don't get 'upset' or 'take to heart' the critiques they receive, I sometimes have to wonder how honest they are being with themselves.

Not too long ago, I claimed to be one of these people. But over the last couple of months, I've really noticed how easily swayed I am by others views. Not consciously, of course. But all it take is a passing remark by someone to plant the seed of doubt.

And, as we all know, doubt can be a rather savage creature.

Second guessing myself and my writing because of other people is new to me. That's not to say I never questioned it or put to the side something I wasn't sure on. No, it's just saying I never did it because of what someone else might have said.

Oh dear. This is making me sound like a spineless jellyfish without a thick skin. That is not the case. Whenever you put yourself out in public whether that be through blog, vlog, twitter, facebook, Authonomy, Write On, or SlushPile Reader, you open yourself up for criticism. Everyone who's been along for my journey knows I've received plenty of criticism. And a lot of it does roll of my back, but sometimes, certain things stick.

Usually, it's the certain things said by certain people.

Up until the last year and a half, I didn't have an audience. It took awhile to adjust to it. After over 700 comments on Seeking Eleanor on Authonomy, I understood my writing isn't for everyone. Someone will always hate it. And you cannot please everyone. These are wonderful things to come to terms with, because once you do you can relax a little and just shrug it off.

I think I've adapted rather well.

Here's the tough part. No matter what sort of writer you are, whether you only plan on writing one book or you have three completed and working on your forth, it's personal. It is your idea, your time, your energy, and, in some cases, your blood, sweat and tears. It's hard not to be sensitive about it. And while we may grin and bear it, there are times that it really gets us down. And that's when the SWS comes into play.

Sensitive Writer Syndrome can strike at the most inopportune times. It could be on the third round of edits or the thirty-sixth 'not for me' rejection. It might do a sneaky ninja attack in the middle of the night and prevent you from sleeping. Hell, it might even show up when you're sitting on the toilet really regretting eating that second extra-spicy bean burrito from the dive Mexican place around the corner. The tricky part of this affliction is one never knows how long it will stay for, how debilitating it may be, or when it will go away. Sometimes it never goes away.

The key for all writers in regards to SWS is to understand your own version of it. Like a compliment, a complaint will render different actions from the person receiving it. All sorts of things come into play. Who said it? How they said it? When they said it? How detailed they are?

For example, while Jackie O'Mackie, the writer of Gothic literature, doesn't care if her friend Betsy Boom rips her work apart, she becomes an emotional basket case if her own mother says anything negative about it. And, quiet the opposite, Peter BoBeater, a writer with a penchant for creating silly little children's books, hates it when his wife Lena mentions his horrible punctuation, but is perfectly happy with his own mother's pedantic ways.

See how it can differ from person to person.

While I did make those examples up, shocking I know, I can only shed light for you on my own version of SWS, because it is rather unique.

Once my work is in completed form, the ending finished and at the stage where I start my edits, I am open to anything anyone says to me. This is not where my Sensitive Writer Syndrome comes into play. No, mine exists before the novel has been completed.

Up until this last year and a half, I didn't have an audience. I didn't have people who showed an interest in reading my work, least of all while I was actually in the middle of writing it. But now, I have people clamouring (that's so the wrong word) to read my work. They ask me to post snippets. They question what I am working on. And they seem excited about the idea of reading it.

This is where my back goes up now.

When I am in the middle of crafting something, I think that idea is amazing. It's all I am focused on. I eat breathe and sleep it. It consumes me. Literally, devouring me until I get it all out and can get back to my life. And so, when someone shows interest in reading what I have started I get a little thrill. But what accompanies this thrill is my SWS.

If I opt to let someone read my work at this stage I run the risk of being derailed.

This is something I know.

Depending on the reaction I get back, I could completely give up on the story. It could be something little, like the person suggesting I write it from a different POV. It could be something big, like someone saying they didn't like it and it had no substance. It could be something ridiculous, like someone not being as excited as I think they should be. And it could be something hurtful, like someone saying it's cliched and expected.

I know these are just their opinions. For the most part, I don't even want to take them into consideration! Especially when I know they are unprecedented and foolish. I mean, they are on a piece of work that isn't done! How could it be cliched and expected, they don't even know what's to come! And yet, still they bother. They plant that pea-sized seed of doubt, and that pea feels like a mountain when I sleep on it at night.

I love feedback on my work in progress. Wait...that's not clear enough. I love helpful feedback on my work in progress. Wait...that's not enough either. My Sensitive Writer Syndrome loves helpful and constructive feedback on my work in progress.

It's really easy for me to be derailed when I am in the middle of writing a novel. That's a unique characteristic to my disorder. I think I am a better writer for recognizing the traits of my special brand of SWS. And I think others would be better off knowing the nature of their own beasts, because there are things we can do to curb it.

We could avoid the things that flare our SWS up...because, like Herpes, it's never going to fully go away. Or we can face it. To be honest, I'm not going to stop letting people read my material, even though that's exactly what my urge is to do. What I am going to do? Cultivate a smaller group of people whose opinions I value. Try not to take to heart the comments I receive from the peanut gallery. And try with all my might to finish the things I start, and not allow myself to be derailed.