Seize the moment.
It’s the on-again, off-again, great blogging debate: why do writers have blogs? In my own experience, my reasoning has evolved, and in a very satisfying way.
At the same time I discovered WordPress, I was told that if I wanted to write and get my name ‘out there,’ I should start a blog. The scariest part was deciding to use my real name; then came deciding what to actually write about. While that particular choice hasn’t evolved much, what I have found as the biggest surprise, is the community here. I got my name out all right – but I hardly have publishers knocking on my door.
There are many different reasons for a writer to blog. My personal favourites are; to build an audience for that eventual bestseller; to keep in the practice of writing, especially while editing; and the best one of all: to have easy access and a (good) excuse to procrastinate, rather than edit the above-mentioned eventual bestseller.
I suppose if I do ever get off my butt and start sending out queries to magazines and the like, I may be able to use this blog as a sample of my work. We all have to start somewhere, and it’s really the age-old question – what do you put on a resume when you have no previous experience? Well, here’s my experience right here. But again, am I just using the blog to procrastinate?
One way or another, the very best part of this whole blogging experience is the wonderful people here on WordPress. Even if I never make it to the bestseller lists, I will always have this great community of people who are as dedicated to writing (and art and photography) as I am. If I’ve gained anything, it’s the valuable insight and fantastic friendships – and I’m meeting more people every day. What could be better?
It would be interesting to know if your reasons for blogging are the same now as they were when you started. Are you as surprised as I am at the support you’ve gained here? I know without it, I may just have fizzled out by now – both as a blogger and as a novelist with an erstwhile eventual bestseller.
For the short fiction that goes with this post, please visit my fiction blog here: B is for … Bob the Blogger.
click on the photo to see the detail
It’s funny how the simplest, and sometimes the ugliest, things can be made beautiful by nature.
The frost along the edge of these dried leaves captured my attention this morning while I was outside with Alex, waiting for the school bus.
Speaking of Alex and going to school, I thought he would be staying at home today. Yesterday he came home with a little itch on his wrist. No biggie. I couldn’t see anything, and he seemed to forget about it as he got involved in things to do. Then before bed it began to itch again. I encouraged him to ignore it and just go to sleep but he wouldn’t stop scratching. He was miserable.
After listening to him whine in bed for about half an hour, I went back upstairs to see him. He was covered, head to toe, in a red, angry-looking rash. There were bumps and actual weals on his legs, some of which were five inches across. It was horrible! I gave him an anti-histamine and let him sleep on the couch where it was a little cooler.
This morning, when he woke up, he’d forgotten about it. All that was left of the rash was the scratches he inflicted on himself with his fingernails.
The cause, as well as I can theorize, was stress caused by the simple little itch he had on his wrist – which was also gone this morning.
Funny how the simplest things can take on a life of their own, when given a touch of something extra, isn’t it?
“I’m writing a novel,” I say, with trepidation.
“Really?” they reply. “What’s it about?”
“Well, it’s about a girl who leaves home and meets a magician.”
“Oh. That sounds … nice.”
“But his family has this deep dark secret.”
(Best case scenario.) Their eyebrows lift a notch. “That sounds intriguing!”
(What usually happens because I lost them after the word ‘magician.’) “What? I was paying attention to something else.”
Explaining what your story is about can be the most difficult thing. From what I’ve discovered by experience, it’s even harder than writing a blurb – because at least with a blurb, if someone is going to bother reading it, they’ve probably committed themselves mentally to paying attention to at least two sentences – one more than you’ve got to grab them with in conversation.
Trying to explain what I do, off the top of my head, is never easy. I don’t have a natural gift for talking about myself. That’s why I write. And so I’m thinking that this may be one of the major reasons that it’s not a good idea to talk about being an author at all.
Before I do, however, publish my novel, I’ll be sure to write myself a sentence which I will recite verbatim whenever anyone asks.
For the short fiction that goes with this post, please visit my fiction blog here: A is for … Aarin, the Topless Pirate.
Ah, I do love a good challenge. It’s just as well, when you think of it: my entire life is one big challenge. I remember saying to myself, before my son Alex was born, I’m in such a rut. I need some excitement in my life! Now THAT was a lesson in being careful what you wish for, right there. Between surgeries, deafness, feeding issues, pneumonias and meanwhile trying to run a business, the first eight months of his life were anything but boring. But I digress. For what I have coming up in the month of April is nothing, by comparison.
Yes, the A-Z Challenge. Since I’m going to write about writing, I thought why not extend the challenge and write a fiction piece a day to illustrate the article I post here? It’s only twice the amount of work, after all! And besides, there’s no reason I shouldn’t show rather than just tell…right?
We’ll see how far I get.
For now, I’m attempting to put all my accumulated notes in alphabetical order. It only seems to make sense, and why put it off? I’ll have enough to do, starting tomorrow.
Don’t you love a challenge? How will you be challenging yourself in the upcoming month?
I have a recurring dream of being stuck in an elevator. Over the years, I’ve connected it to being stuck in a rut, being undecided about something, or being worried about which direction my life is going. You see, the elevator doesn’t just stop – it takes over. It has a life of its own, going up, down and sideways. Sometimes it is much smaller than the shaft and it swings on its cables. Sometimes it stops between floors and the doors open – revealing to me the scariest thing of all: the dark, dirty elevator shaft.
I had the dream again last night, but this time it was a little different. The elevator continued to have control, but I overcame the dream.
I was in a three storey building and I got into the elevator with two men. I wanted to go from the third to the second floor, but for some reason I couldn’t push the button, so the elevator went to the first floor. The men got out, and I pushed the second floor button, but I ended up again on the third. I allowed the door to close, vowing that if I missed the second floor again, I’d get out on the first and take the stairs. Of course, when the doors closed, the elevator took control. We went up to the roof and started going sideways. I had a window in the elevator then (why? It was a dream) and I could see the tops of the other rooves from where I was.
Instead of panicking, however, as I usually do in this dream, I pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of my bag and I sat down and started writing. I figured if the elevator wasn’t going to do what I wanted it to, I’d make the best of it with the time I had on my hands.
Pretty cool, eh? If only I could remember what I wrote. It might just have been brilliant.
There are days when I wish I could just let everything go; empty my mind of all worries, thoughts, desires, and fantasies. Being empty allows me to fill myself up with whatever I want. A clean slate to write on. I wish to be a blank page.
I want to be clean. To stand in a rain storm and scrape away my cares. To unearth my stress and toss it over my shoulder–discarded–not to be seen again.
I want to drive fast down a highway with the windows open, looking forward to the horizon with no destination.
I want to sink to the bottom of the pool, unbreathing, weightless, peaceful.
I want to meditate. To drift off into the ether; to become one with the universe, and there, commune with spirits of those unliving. To join in their stories.
I want nothingness. With nothing inside me, I can fill myself with what I need.
Happy Blogaversary to me,
Happy Blogaversary to me…
Okay, it doesn’t quite slip off the tongue like Happy Birthday does, but it’s unique to the Blogiverse, isn’t it?
In celebration of my first aniversary, I’ve made a few changes… in fact you won’t recognize it, other than the fact that all my fiction and poetry are still there. To make it more clear that my fiction blog is, indeed, a fiction blog, I’ve changed the name to “Inspiration in Progress” to coincide with this one – “Life in Progress.” I’ve also changed the menus, the “About” page, and the theme!
Please go and have a visit, and let me know what you think.
Oh! It’s here: http://lindaghillfiction.wordpress.com/
Thanks!
Linda
There’s nothing quite like pizza for breakfast. Straight out of the box in the fridge and into my mouth. And don’t tell me it’s not the right way to eat a pizza.
But… I’m a hypocrite. Although I can’t stand having someone tell me what is the right or wrong way to enjoy my food, I often tell my best friend, John, just that. I mean seriously, just because it’s not the right way for me (or most of the other people on the planet) to eat peanut butter… on a sandwich with a slice of processed cheese… should I be telling him it’s not right?
Damnit, yes! It’s wrong, plain and simple. It’s like putting ketchup in your chicken noodle soup, or eating baked beans smothered with maple syrup. (I’ll get some flack from the Quebecois on that one, particularly this time of year.)
We all have our oddities when it comes to food. What are yours?
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See this week’s prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday, and join in! Click the link here: https://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2014/03/28/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-march-2914/
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