Taking myself seriously... seriously.

Trying out SkyDrive through Microsoft. Hopefully with B's laptop back I can get some writing done away from my desktop. I had some great inspiration on some ideas but it happened two seconds before I passed out for the night. I managed to remember most of it, though, when I woke up in the middle of the night and realized what had happened. Which is much better than sleeping the night through and completely forgetting all of it by morning.

My biggest hurdle right now is the fact that our convention season is starting and our biggest party of the year is fast approaching  -- five days over Easter weekend. And the deadline for the Crypticon writing contest is shortly thereafter. If I want to get the TWO submissions done I've set my sights on, then I need to manage my time a little more wisely and stop procrastinating. I also need to start putting more faith in myself and start believing in my own talent. If other people, including those who are proven in the industry, think I've got the stuff it takes... why is it so hard for /me/ to believe it as well? I need to get over it already, it's gone past the point of quirk and is now into the holding-me-back and embarrassing realm.

Like this blog for example. I have ... no readers. None. Yet I post to it as if I do have some, pretend that someone will stumble upon it and find my words interesting, take up some stock in my struggle to find my own voice and win the war that is finishing a novel and continue to follow my sporadic and often rambling postings.... yet I don't do anything like oh, I don't know mention the fact that I have a blog to anyone. I'm embarrassed by promoting myself, about talking about my accomplishments like I'm some sort of braggart. And it doesn't help when I get teased or made fun of by the people who are supposed to be supporting me the most, like I've gotten some huge, uncontrollable ego since I've had one short story published.

Argh.

Where was I going with this? Oh right -- I need to find a balance between the required day job, the duties of Biohazard, the household things I have to do and my writing. I need to make it a priority and make it important... because it is, at least to me. I need to take my writing and myself as an author seriously. I need to stop assuming that everything that comes out of my creative process is utter crap and start having some faith. And I definitely need to start finishing some projects. Like the current short story. And the next one.

And I need to do all of this sooner rather than later.

Like yesterday.

If it's remembered, it must be good.

If something comes to me in the middle of the night, either just as I'm falling asleep or a thought that actually wakes me, I will usually get up out of bed with the intention of writing it down. It could be a sentence or a mere thought or it could be the spark that cause me to spend the next several hours laying in bed writing furiously into loose leaf notebook paper until I pass out again from exhaustion. The few times that I don't get up and do this are the times I'm too freaking tired to move. In these times, I usually console myself with the thoughts that if it's that good, I'll remember it in the morning. 

This never happens. By morning light I've completely forgotten that I had a thought to begin with, much less what that thought was. This is the eternal struggle I must face; trying to be a writer with memory problems. If I give into my laziness and ignore what I should be working on for a few days I end up forgetting where ever the hell it was I left off or exactly what I was intending to do with the story. These few days stretch into a frustrating few weeks and I'm left, several months down the road, having to restart my work entirely from the beginning just so I can start where I'd left off. 

There are a few rare times, however, that it's later in the day when the thought suddenly springs into my head that there was something I'd wanted to remember. Actually, no... let me rephrase that. The thought I have that I should be remembering something comes up a lot. A LOT. It's rare that I'll figure it out. Last night I had a thought; the potential beginning of a whole chapter in one sentence. I did not get up to write it down as I had just gotten in bed and it was already nearing two in the morning. But it's now 1:30 the next afternoon and I've just remembered what it was. 

And it's pretty good, in my opinion, so I am pleased. 

But the thought of how much I've missed because of all I can't remember is daunting. Not nearly as much as the knowledge that I've screwed myself completely over the last several years with how much I tend to avoid writing (it's not that I don't love it. I do. I live for it. I'm scared to death of actually finishing the damn thing and then having to let people read it). The insanity of this thought going hand in hand with the dream of being published makes me feel like I should be locked away or tested for some sort of imbalance. 

I tried, a few times actually, to put a notebook beside the bed for my mid-sleep thoughts. I kept losing it and failed. So I've begun texting my friend Koamie who will always remind me later. She started a writing group that I've joined and she's fantastic at not only being my memory but also being HONEST. A hard quality to find in anyone. 

I also decided last night that I've been a dumbass lately... purely in relation to myself. If I want to be a published author, I need to write. If I submit something and it's rejected, then I need to write some more. Having someone not like what I write is not the end of the world. I need to accept this.

 

The thick skin that covers the rest of my life needs to be extended over this part as well. 

Or I'll never make it. 

This is my first blog post, as you can see, in the blog I've dedicated to being ONLY about my writing and the journey I've taken trying to finish this damn novel.