#IWSG: 2012 round up.

Since this is the last #IWSG post for 2012, I thought I'd do an end-of-year round up. Filled with anguish, of course.

This year, I've written four novels (first drafts, I hasten to add!), each varying in length. If I add last year's NaNo novel, I now have five first drafts under my belt, and I love each of them dearly.

So, why didn't I just write one novel at a time, from first to final draft, like a normal writer?

Looking back, I was too insecure to take these first drafts further, so moved on to another project and put everything else on my "To Be Written Properly" shelf.

I guess 2012 was my year of learning how to write, voraciously and inexhaustibly.

Aside from the WIPs, I've filled several notepads with notes, ideas and observations. I keep a journal on my laptop (started on 1st Jan 2012), which is now on its 296th page (with size 8 font to keep prying eyes away!). I write two pages as soon as I get out of bed, before I get ready for work (it's disgustingly difficult, but always worth it). If I'm not writing, I'm thinking about writing. If I'm blogging less on here... it's because I'm writing instead of talking about writing.

It's fair to say I'm obsessed committed.

2013 will be my year of learning how to write well.

The end of NaNo left a big gap in my writerly life. I'm filling this month with writing craft exercises and extreme notepad entries, but I feel like I'm weaning myself off the high-volume output, ready to get set for... *drum roll* editing.

I'm happy with my structure, action and dialogue. I'd just prefer to articulate the words in a more... beautiful manner. I take great pleasure from reading a well-written book (such as The Blue Notebook by James A. Levine, or The Pursuit of Love by Nancy Mitford) and I hope to create that same enjoyment in anyone who reads my books.

I'm terrified I won't live up to my high expectations. But we'll see.

So... here's to a year of writing well.

What are your goals for 2013? How has your 2012 been? I'd love to know!

Please visit all the other lovely people on the Insecure Writer's Support Group. We all thrive on encouragement, we really do.

Take care,
Catherine x ◦

#IWSG: 2012 round up.

#IWSG: How do you commit to a story?

In my last post, I spoke about how I was being a wee cool cucumber with regards to NaNoWriMo 2012. Indeed, on the 1st November, I still didn't have an inkling of what I was going to write about.

Every time I thought up a new idea, it didn't grab me, or excite me enough to want to commit 50k words to it. I have a plethora of ideas in a document at home, but I was reluctant to revert to it. I wanted something new. Something fresh. Something experimental.

That's when the insecurity set in. What if nothing looks appealing enough to write about? What am I all about, not creating an outline? Why am I making it hard for myself?

As the panic set in, my mind instantly started to cloud over. The gates of my imagination welded shut.

There was only one way to get that gate back open and I'm blogging about it today so that every time I start a new project and feel stuck, I can look back and remember what to do...

I need to, at all times, immerse myself in creative expression. You'd be hard pushed to find anything better than the Kelvingrove Art Gallery & Museum. I defy you to come away from it unscathed.

I'd covered no more than a mere corner of the gallery (The Glasgow Boys gallery, to be exact. Go see it. It's splendid), when my NaNo story appeared from nowhere and practically assaulted me. I had to keep perching on a nearby seat to scribble down ideas before they disappeared forever, and when it came to typing them up, I was finally grabbed.

Seven days in and I'm currently sitting at 11,056 words. I'm really happy with that, considering I've been blighted by sinusitis the past few days. It's hard conjuring up the motivation to write when it hurts to move your eyeballs even a fraction. I don't like moaning about illness though, it's depressing. On a brighter note, I did discover that I don't need my eyeballs to type. I seem to drift off into a weird gaze whilst my fingers navigate my well-worn keyboard.

I just knew that "Teaching Yourself to Touch Type" CD ROM I purchased eight years ago would come in handy one day...

I suspect many members of the Insecure Writers Support Group will also be doing NaNo and might not have the time to visit their usual amount of blogs. That's not to stop you visiting them, though. Go do it here! They're all lovely.

How are you all getting on with your writing projects? Also, what is it about your story that made you commit to it? How did you get the balls to see past your "blank page" insecurities? Do share... :) x ◦

#IWSG: How do you commit to a story?

Don't give up the day job, hen.

It’s been a month since I last blogged. How did that happen? Where have I been?

 

Well, I’ve been writing. I’ve been tearing through the first draft of a new novel I’m working on, and I’ve been learning my craft. I’ve been doing my Morning Pages every day as soon as my eyes flicker open (4:30am on workdays. Ouch). I’ve been clustering and journaling and plotting and spending all my time either writing or thinking about writing.

I’ve sacrificed my bubble of ignorance for observation; overhearing and capturing snippets of conversation that I find hilarious or disturbing.

The downside of observing others for research purposes, however, is the obligation to tolerate humanity. I despair! 

Overall, though, I couldn’t be happier with my progress at this point in time.

Nobody is immune from insecurities. So what am I insecure about this month?

Well, all this heightened writing activity has naturally had an effect on how I spend my days. Considering I don’t tell many people about my writing (you know, apart from the thousands of people who’ve read this blog), it would appear to most that I've either:

a) become obscenely lazy
b) become (even more) anti-social
c) developed a cleaning & organisation fetish

Let me illustrate this with a few conversation snippets.

A colleague asks: “What did you get up to this weekend?”

• Me (internally): “Oh, just opening a few veins, bleeding on to a page or ten.”

• Me (externally): “Oh, I just had a quiet one, I didn’t do anything, really.”

Mum calls me:“What are your plans for the day?”

• Me (internally): “A few clustering & freewrite exercises, followed by a mammoth writing session”
• Me (externally): “Oh, just rearranging my wardrobe and cleaning the windows.”

When disappearing from my desk every lunchtime (when for the last 5 years I’ve taken lunch at my desk), I'm asked: “Did you have a nice lunch?”

• Me (internally):“It was wonderful. I managed 1249 words in 34 minutes.”

• Me (externally): “Aye, it was alright.” (No further elaboration)

Why do I stop myself from mentioning my goal – nay, my purpose – in life? Because... people will act like you’re a weirdo, like you've just admitted to skinning cats for fun, if you do something as silly as that. Which makes them the real weirdos, really, but I remain silent nonetheless.

For me, telling someone you’re a writer is like telling a fellow Glaswegian you’re teetotal. You’re met with a glazed, confused stare. It’s beyond comprehension to many. 

In the “Start Writing Fiction” podcast from the Open University, author Michèle Roberts gives some sage advice: “Don’t tell the wrong people that you want to write, because they’ll mock you and laugh at you.”

So who are the “wrong people?” Personally, I consider that to be everyone who doesn't infact write themselves. Don’t get me wrong, I talk about my writing, to an extent, to my nearest and dearest, but I wouldn't hark on to my neighbours or colleagues about it.

So why allow myself to come across as someone I'm not? Why not just confess my writerly ways?

Because it was hard enough convincing myself that writing isn’t simply an act of self-indulgence, without having to convince other people too.

The more involved I am with my writing, the more precious it is becoming to me, and the more fiercely I will protect my right to write.

I’ve opened that can of worms before. In a more gallus temperament, I’ve spoken of my writing ambition to some "wrong people". It invariably created questions. Sceptical questions. “What, so you think you’re going to get published? Do you fancy yourself as the next J. K. Rowling? You’ll have to keep your day job, of course.”

Calm down, pal.

In order to explain your writing dream properly, you’d have to spend a hell of a lot of time talking about yourself. And I don’t care for talking about myself. I’d rather go and write about other people, to be frank.

Sometimes I wonder if it scares some people, seeing someone pursue their dreams. Perhaps it forces them to wonder about their own dreams; ones that remain unfulfilled. The path to writing is unique because you can’t really follow step-by-step instructions to becoming qualified (believe me, I’ve tried), like the way you can in another career like a mechanic or a midwife. Maybe this is why most people don’t consider writing as a real profession.

One of the most common attributes of writers, I like to believe, is their ability not to care too much about what other people think of them. Otherwise, they’d be too terrified to even think about writing, don’t you think?

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all sinister attitudes and ugliness. Perhaps people genuinely are happy for you and wish you all the best with your endeavours. Maybe everything I just said above wasn’t a reflection on other people, but of my own insecurities as a writer.

In that case, when better to divulge these insecurities than in my post for the Insecure Writers Support Group, hmm?

How is everyone getting on? Have you had any experiences of sharing your writing dream with the "wrong people"?

I shall catch up with all my fellow #ISWG writers over the weekend. Looking forward to it! x ◦

Don't give up the day job, hen.

#IWSG: Self-Sabotage

(My second IWSG post. Yay!)

I'm almost embarrassed to ask this question, for fear of exposing myself as a psychopath, but does anyone else suffer from an overwhelming compulsion to sabotage their own efforts, in writing or anything else that's important to them?

I do. It's like there's a tiny monster in my head pretending to be my wee pal. Lets call him Bampot.

My lunch hour writing sessions have fast become the most productive of all my writing. Every time I go back to my desk, I'm brimming with a feeling of accomplishment.

So why, then, does little Bampot say to me in the mornings: "don't bother taking your laptop to work with you today, you might drop and break it. You'll just hurt your shoulder humphing it around anyway. You can freewrite at your desk..." and so on.

It's not the first time Bampot has reared his ugly head. He fast appears when I want to do something creative with my life. When I was thirteen, my music teacher invited me to join the Strathclyde Arts Jazz Group. I was terrified, but went along anyway. And I was so glad I did. I'd be up there, doing my flute solo (yes, Jazz Flute, just call me Ron Burgundy), being part of this amazing musical creation. There's nothing else like it, I tell ye.

So why, then, did Bampot convince me to "forget" to take my flute from the school's music cupboard the night before our practise sessions? "You can still go and watch," he'd say to me, "it just means you don't have to play. Don't put yourself under that pressure. You might mess up your solo and look like a fool."

So I'd turn up empty handed, making my excuses. But my music teacher, Mr. Gourlay, he knew the score. He'd bring my flute with him when I "forgot". I have a feeling he knew I was at it, and I'm grateful to him for that; for pushing me out of my comfort zone. It's one the best things you can do for someone, in my opinion. By the time I made my way back home, I was high with adrenaline, so happy to have been part of the magic again. That creative buzz is quite addictive, you know. Shame I'd always try to "forget" my flute the next week, and the next...

I think everyone has a little Bampot in their head. One that tells you: don't bother applying for that job, you won't get it. Give your boyfriend one more chance. He treats you like shit, but he's alright sometimes. He's more than you deserve anyway. What's the point in dieting? Would you rather eat rabbit food and be miserable for the rest of your life? Here, have a chip. You can't give up smoking, you enjoy it and it's good for your stress levels. You could get knocked down and killed by a bus tomorrow, for all you know. Life's too short.

Don't write that book. You don't know what you're doing. There are millions of books out there, all written better than yours. Look at these authors, spouting out three books a year and you're still working on your first. Never mind being an author. It's not what it used to be anyway; you have to be a PR mogul whilst you're at it these days. It's not what you write, it's who'll review your book. Just do yourself a favour and stick to reading books and writing the occasional journal. You'll save yourself a lot of pain and time. How wonderful would it be not to be plagued by feelings of inadequacy anymore? Just give it up. You tried your best. It wasn't meant to be.

Sometimes defying Bampot feels like you're going against your natural instincts. But from what I've experienced in life so far, he only pops up when you're on the cusp of improving yourself; at risk of becoming a better person. Don't let him win. See him as a test. Really good things don't come without a fight.

I shouldn't let Bampot wear me down with my writing. I've refused to surrender to him for many things in my life. And it's been more than worth it every time. He won't get me this time either, I'll make sure of it. And all my fellow #IWSG lovelies should fight against Bampot too!

How are you all getting on anyway? I've been away on a trip to Dublin, so it feels like forever since I immersed myself in the bloggy world. Do give me your gossip! I'll come visit you when I can :) x

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#IWSG: Self-Sabotage

#IWSG: Déjà vu

Today is my first post as part of the Insecure Writers’ Support Group, which consists of a bunch of lovely bloggers who post on the first Wednesday of the month with all their writing insecurities. I’ve got plenty of these, so it's a given I’d be into this.

I'm the 226th member! Click here to see the list of other participants (and to join up yourself, perhaps?).

So what are my writing insecurities? Well (CAUTION: ANGST AHEAD), my main fear at the moment is that, in my effort to learn how to write well, I'm going round in circles and absorbing nothing! I keep having all these “epiphanies” about what step to take next, then realise I’d already thought of (and dismissed) that idea some months previously.

It’s like I'm taking one step forward and two steps back.

The other day, for instance, I started thinking about a TV Program I used to watch, called Fat Friends. Anyone remember it? It was a show based around a slimming group, and we got to delve into the lives of each of the slimmers. It was a warm fuzzy comedy with likeable characters and plenty of emotional issues.

Realising how important the community aspect could be in a good story, I resolved to come up with lots of good “community” ideas for future stories.

But then I thought to myself: wait, this sounds familiar. I consulted an old “story idea” spreadsheet made in June last year, and found this:

(By the way, I have no idea what the hell a Cider Farm is. Is that even a real thing?)

And that's another thing: all these spreadsheets and print-outs and worksheets are just feeding my insecurity! The only thing that will get rid of my insecurity is getting it done, for crying out loud (sorry, I'm in complete despair at my lack of progress). 

I've resolved to start bringing my laptop into work to do a bit of writing on my lunch breaks. I need to get a big bag/rucksack first, though. Cutting about Glasgow with a laptop bag at 6am just screams *mug me, please*. Here's a hilarious Limmy sketch to back this up.

I think insecurity breeds on silence. It’s good to talk to other writers; to vent and not be considered a weirdo for having the audacity to dream of being a writer.

Yesterday, I met the lovely Anne from Is Anyone There for a coffee and a gab. Not only was it great to meet such a sweet person, it was wonderful to just talk about writing with someone who can relate.

Speaking of people who can relate, I look forward to visiting the other #ISWG bloggers when I get home from work tonight!

What are your writing insecurities? Feel free to share (and make me feel less exposed haha) x ◦

#IWSG: Déjà vu