It's a blog hop, folks, led by Captain Alex Cavanaugh and his minions. To find links to more writers talking about writing, click here.
The
last time I wrote an IWSG post, I talked about struggling with my writing
project, and the muse that yanked me off in a different direction. That
direction was a 550 word essay that I wrote in under two hours and sent on spec
to the Boston Globe. Less than a week later they informed me they wanted
to publish it, and it will appear this weekend. Working on that snippet was
fun, and the acceptance, complete with pay, gave me little confidence boost.
That
same week, I finally tracked down a copy of a spring issue of a boating
magazine where I have a fifteen hundred word feature about my hometown harbor
(guess my complimentary copy got lost in the mail). A few days later, the
mail delivered another regional magazine where I have a center spread on eight seafood
restaurants. The two magazines sit on my coffee table, taunting me in a
way, reminding me it’s been over a month since I focused (or tried to
focus) on the novel.
I
belong to a local writers group, and the last two times I’ve read pieces of my
current project the feedback was tough, critical in ways that are correct, but
for some reason, also damaging. I’m reading from an early draft, I know
the writing needs to be tightened, but I have to get through the story first,
and I’m finding it difficult to have the thing torn to pieces before I’m
done. After the last critique session, I re-read the draft and realized
in addition to the accurate comments from my group, the whole thing lacks
complexity and conflict. I have a million miles to go and right now, I’m
straining to take a step.
Perhaps
that’s why every once in a while, I open the two magazines on the coffee table
and rifle to my articles. Perhaps that’s why I look forward to getting
Sunday’s paper and seeing my byline. Maybe that’s what led me to write
another, 650-word essay that I’m planning on submitting soon. These days,
I’m really not sure I'm ever going to publish a novel. But this less,
tear-my-hair-out kind of work convinces me at least I can still write.
