There are some days when I feel as though I am arguing with myself.
These are the kind of days where none of the writing ideas I have seem to pan out. All my characters are sassing me (oh, you better believe they sass), none of the world building rules makes sense, and the plot is just sort of lying on the floor of my imagination in a tangled, panting heap. It’s a mess.
These are the kind of days where I write blog posts, post to Twitter, feed the gaping maw of the great and terrible Interweb and receive nary an echo in response. Is this thing on?
These are the days when every word I speak in the real world is ignored, trampled over or shot down. I feel like a mad woman screaming at the mirror. Why won’t you let me love you?
It’s all very frustrating, and I’m sure everyone reading this has felt the same thing at one point or another. It is tough being a writer–published or not, established or not–because you’re putting out so much of yourself for the world with no guarantee that anyone will listen, or care, for that matter.
That, my doves, is when you dig in your heels and say “Fuck it all, no one has to care but me.”
You write because you have to; there is a story within you that needs to be told, and you’ve got to get it out or go mad. It doesn’t matter if it sits in the bottom of a shoebox gathering dust, the point is that you wrote it. It’s done. It’s out.
Same thing with blogs. You’ve got something to say, and you hang it out where anyone can find it, like a rusty lunch tin at the end of a treasure map. There’s a prize inside for whoever is looking.
You speak in the real world for the same reasons–to convey ideas. If no one is listening, that is their loss. You said your piece, and good for you.
Remember, my hearts, there may not be an echo, there may not even be a whisper of response, but there is someone listening. I’m listening.
So, calm your mind. Find the end of that plot tangle and start un-knotting it. Sass your characters right back. Pour out your ideas on the Interweb. Scream at the mirror.
One day, I promise, it will start screaming back.
(Okay, that’s maybe a scarier promise than I had intended. But you get the idea.)