Writer. Adventurer. Currently working on The Dreamless City, a series of steampunk novels and short stories.
At this point I’m laughing because it’s so silly. I’m a writer. It’s what I do, what I think about doing when I’m at work, at school, with my family, cooking, driving, knitting, playing games, folding laundry (okay, maybe the last one is a sporadic occurrence at best). But here I am, confronted with a blank page, and I can barely muster an “eep” or a “yip.” Dare I ask for subjects and verbs? I’m a writer, so why is starting a blog so challenging?
I blame it on Two Things. Thing One – I’ve never really put myself out there on the “internets” before. Sure I’m on FB, but it is mostly Sweetpea or Pup pics, occasionally a comment about a movie. I don’t really talk about all this writing that I do. Thing Two – Even more intimidating than the blank post is the stark white blog that looms behind it. It’s like the blank page multiplied itself into an infinite-legged monster waiting to pounce.
There’s an irreverent streak in me that compels me to scribble with crayons on as much of that white space as possible. But the inner critic wipes her hands on her apron and asks if crayons are the right choice. What about pencils, markers, or maybe some sophisticated watercolors? So here I sit, stymied.
What do I want to say about myself, my life, and the writing that wells up between the cracks? I’m certainly not the first person to write about writing. I have a whole shelf of books by Stephen King, Terry Brooks, Margaret Atwood, Orson Scott Card, and many others attesting to to the path much traveled.
I suppose that’s the point — I’m not a published author, not yet, but I’m on the downhill stretch of a rough draft, which has a glimmer of light I want to polish into a shining novel. It’s silly how simple writing is, but at times seems so daunting. I’d like to share my writing adventures, and I hope you will share your experiences with me.
Also, I have a little girl, and she is pretty awesome.