Write. You’ll Feel Better.

            I have been in the midst of a weird dry spell, and I don’t know how long it’s been, but it’s not quite letting up. I call it “writer’s block”, but instead of not knowing where to take whatever story I’m working on next, I just don’t have the motivation to write. And that’s scary. I can’t remember feeling this way, ever.

            It’s complete apathy! I’ve been writing since I was four. I don’t not write. I remember hearing about girls who the Taliban would kidnap and torment because they were literate, as a kid. I wrote for them too, because they couldn’t. I started collecting old books–each over 100 years old, as a teenager, and I remember how angry I felt when I realize how few were A) Written by women, and B) Written by women under a masculine pen name. I wrote for them too because they couldn’t get published. I chose to be “Helen M. Pugsley” because I was going to use a feminine name, by thunder! Now I’ve lost my Your Quote streak, I’ve got a pile of sticky notes holding ideas for future blog posts under the calculator on my desk, I’ve got submission calls rotting away in my inbox, and a notebook full of loosey goosey poetry, because I don’t feel like doing anything but
Calling
This
Steam of
Consciousness
Poetry.

It sickens me.

            And you know what else? I tried writing the next book of the Gishlan series one day in The Night Heron but I completely forgot I write in first person POV, and wrote the first pages in third person, omnipotent! I was so ticked off! However, even when you feel like me, you gotta keep going.

            I read a decent bit of advice on Instagram, about writing. “If you don’t use a facet for a while it’s going to spit out a bit of muck when you first turn it on.” I’ve stayed in so many out-of-the-way places I now have this quirky habit of letting a facet run for a minutes before I use it in a new place! As far as I can tell, the person who said that is completely right.

            Bruh, make yourself write. Write absolute crap! Write some silly fan fic about your OC and Captain Jack Sparrow smooching on the back of a whale! Throw it up on Wattpad so people can laugh with you!

Write the
Bad
Poetry
That
Reads
Like
This.

Write because you can’t make yourself care about writing anymore! Write Tik Tok scripts because you’re camera shy! Add adjectives to your grocery list because you can! Write the first pages of your friend’s thesis and then email it to them to make them mad! (Hehehe, I don’t recommend that, actually.) Write from the weird prompt book someone gave you for Christmas 20 years ago! Just write! Shake the dust off!

            And I think I can promise you, once you do you’ll feel a lot better than apathetic. You’ll have that bliss that comes with making something, even if it is an ugly bastard. You literally don’t have to show it to anyone. Chill. Write, simply because you can! Make some weird crap because no one can stop you. And just think of how proud your ancestors who never learned to write, because they were farmers and they didn’t need to, would be of you! Write because the cat keeps yelling at you to take him for a walk, but fuzz butt doesn’t run your life! He can wait! (Seriously, he wants to go get the mail with me and I am in my pajamas.) Write because you are an unstoppable force of sheer chaos and nobody owns you! Just write, and make yourself feel better.

Would you like to give me false hope of making a profit from writing? Visit my Patreon! (Following is free 🙂 )

Boo! It’s the Fear of Failure

I have to share something truly scary with you guys: I want to give up.

That’s right. I said it. I want to turn around and dump all of this off. I want to unload every single piece I’ve written, my life’s work, online for free so someone will read it and love it. Maybe Wattpad? I am tired.

No hard feelings, of course, but the press I was in a gentleman’s agreement with and I decided it would be best if my books and I moved on back in July. It’s like a breakup. Even if you were unhappy and it was just not working it still hurts. And yeah, much like a breakup, I wish them well and hope they get all the happiness this world has to offer too. But still, it’s about as disheartening as a punch in the jaw. (Actually, a punch in the jaw would make me incredibly angry but that’s beside the point!)

Like I started off saying, I just want someone to love my books as much as I love them. I’ve spent 10 friggin’ years in Gishlan. This October will make it official! I am, in all seriousness, thinking about self-publishing my Gishlan series. Which, is something I promised myself I’d never do because self-publishing is great for hobbyists! More power to ya! But this is so much more than a hobby to me. My itty bitty vegetable garden is a hobby, my Etsy shop is a hobby, making memes in Facebook groups is a hobby. My writing is not a hobby.

You know what’s easier than rounding up all the freelancers I’ve been working with for the past five years and tapping my foot impatiently at them while we try to meet some fancy smancy deadline I made up? Giving up.

I could just drop it. Never talk about it. I could swear off writing (even though I actually can’t because I get this weird itch under my skin when I don’t write and BLEH!) I could just let this skill set I’ve been working on since I started elementary school get rusty, let the stories die inside of me, never make another blog post, get out of the game. I could.

But why? Why sacrifice that year I lived off of the royalties and revenue from War and Chess? Or all those hours where I broke my back over an antique kitchen chair as I typed out 40,000+ words during a global pandemic? Or that time when I was 17 and I gave a nice lady with eyelids that reminded me of butterflies $10 to read my fortune at a street fair, and she told me “I don’t think you’ll publish your book. I know you will. Kick some ass.”? Why would I let go of that time I was first world starving in my first apartment, pressing 700 shirts a week, wondering if anything good would come of my life or if I’d just pay bills and slowly rot away, but instead one March day I got email a contract for War and Chess? I coyote howled all the way to the grocery store where I bought sparkling grape juice I couldn’t really afford because I was 19 and wasn’t legal to drink yet. Why would I let any of it go?

The fear of failure. That’s why.

This is friggin’ terrifying. Here I am pouring my heart out to you guys in fiction, and someone who doesn’t even read young adult fantasy could just come up and “I don’t like it.”, give it one star on Amazon, and “It needs more romance.” Or not even that! War and Chess has been rejected 25 times and Tales from the Gishlan Wood has been rejected 26 times. Both pieces could never meet the right publisher! And what about the other two books on my desk? They just go inside of my coffee table which is a trunk containing manuscripts? I could completely fail.

But you know what? War and Chess has been accepted by indie presses twice, and Tales from the Gishlan Wood has been offered three different contracts. I just feel that it’s important to find the right publisher where we, me as an author, and them as a press, can mutually benefit each other. And as for books three and four: one day one of my friends will ask “OH! Is this the one with the pregnant lady who swears a lot?! Yass!” and somewhere out there, there is a little girl who is really excited to see her mermaid book in print. Even just to read it! (Because I only just did the first draft editing and she watched me write it from afar.) I firmly believe there are people out there who need these stories and I want to do it in a way that can reach the most people. And if that’s not it, then I’m sure people need the story of me wanting to give up because I’m so gawldarn tired of failing but then persevering. Even if that person isn’t a writer. My childhood heroes ran brothels. The sex industry just isn’t for me even though I respect the con craft. Some examples: 1, 2, 3.

What’s catastrophic failure to the owner of a brothel? The church shuts your practice down? Dell Burke offered to shut down the power plant for them if they dared. For me catastrophic failure would be amassing a fandom over the course of 20 years then saying a bunch of narrow minded garbage that defames a certain group. *Looks into camera* So why not give myself that chance and keep working?

Don’t sweat. I’m currently querying agents because I obviously can’t find the right publisher on my own. Don’t get me wrong! I’ve worked with good people! We’re just not right for each other. I’m not giving up and neither should you!

These things take time. And it’s about as much as having bamboo shoved under your fingernails then lit on fire. Go for your goals! Battle that dragon! Lay siege to that castle! Pick one that the beefeaters aren’t guarding. I don’t want to see you die. Learn a new language! Travel the world [when it’s safe to do so]! Write your bleedin’ book. Publish your bleedin’ book! Whatever you came here hoping I would tell you to do! Do the thing!

And please continue to follow my career so I can disappoint you, as all heroes do eventually. *Whispers* except you, Dell. You’re perfect.

Happy Halloween! Come back next month for NaNoWriMo is Weird. And as always don’t be a stranger. Contact button is to your left, comments are below. Would love to hear from ya!