This is a new blog, although writing and blogging are not new for me. My muse seems to waft in and out on a schedule known only to him or her, causing a desperate banging of keyboard or doodling on a pad barely capable of forming an A.
That’s been my consistent issue. I tell myself that I need to write, and I have only a billion and a half ideas, some embryonic, but settling to write just one seems impossible. Or there is something that I feel compelled to write about, and my need to think through every possible argument to the conclusion overwhelms the idea, and I get lost in the “too much’ world.
And all the time, I keep telling myself that “I want to be a writer”. But, how do you call yourself a writer if you are not writing? And what if no one read? If a blog is posted and no one comes, is it worth the effort?
What you should know about me is I have blogged. I have been a “respected” or at least well read, heavily commented upon, blogger on another site. A third rate (now) “adult” site that was promoted to swingers and the sexually liberated. What was funny about that, or struck me, is that among the plethora of up close and personal photos of body parts normally covered with the briefest bikinis, the rampant use of the F word as a noun, verb and activity, and the general overbearing sense of sadness and desperation expressed in most personal emails and profiles, there were some amazingly talented writers there. And it wasn’t all erotica and how to be sexy. There were ideas and laughter: real talent. But, the dramatics, the competition for attention and the near wholesale emigration of writers of substance has denigrated a once fertile space of thought to a sandbox, populated with cats, old broken toys, cigarette butts and that odd indefinable smell.
But, I left the “regular writing” there a while back, took a break, and got distracted. Distracted myself with saying I wanted TO be a writer rather than writing. Stopped filling up the notebooks with scribbles of half-formed ideas to deal with later, in fact, I don’t even know where my favourite pen is now. I lost the plot. Perhaps I buried the plot, or moved from it as I let the little voices tell me that I’m not clever enough, or talented enough, or my grammar is horrid.
Then, by complete happenstance, I came across You Are a Writer by Jeff Goins on Amazon. If you have the $3.99 and a kindle reader (PC or actual Kindle – and there is a way to convert to Nook or Sony reader – just Google it) and you want to write, think you want to write, or do write – get this book.
It was a quick read – but it taught me 3 things.
♦ I write – therefore I am a writer
♦ I can choose what to write about, and I can tweak that at any time
♦ If you write it, they will come. Perhaps not as quickly or as copiously as you want, but they do come
He also gives you a boatload of tips, tricks and ideas that really are common sense. Many of these ideas I will try, use and incorporate here.
First, I need to do this: I am a writer: Welcome to my world.