I could start a whole new genre called WISHFUL THINKING. Though my personal dream world exists in a stupendous- imaginarium- alternative- successful-universe, my manuscript is not keeping up with the fantasy.
I got my first draft of my first novel back from the editor. After three years of work I had thought it was close to being a final one with some adjustments to make before I generously offer it to the world of publishing that would be so grateful for being the first to discover such a new and promising talent.
Yes, I NOW see how I managed to make a secondary character way more interesting than the protagonist. I see the awkward transitions and how everything isn’t tied up the way it should be.
Niggling doubt as to whether I can write a novel? It broke down the door, threw a party and invited all its best friends. Shame, low self esteem, self loathing. They had drinks, ate junk food and danced on the table, pointed fingers and laughed AT me; not with me.
Okay, I’m over that drama now.
Why do I write? It’s not a requirement for anything. It isn’t for money and it isn’t ever likely to be. I think it is a means to know myself. It is my ticket to hang out with other writers. We all keep one foot (at least) in an imaginary realm and we get to make shit up. How fun is that?
It organizes my otherwise crazy repetitive cycles of thinking probably saving me from serotonin uptake inhibitors and copious amounts of Anejo Tequila.
It is ever so satisfying when something I craft works and over-the-moon rewarding when it resonates with a reader.
If you are the only person on the planet unfamiliar with Harry Potter and the work of JK Rowling, a Muggle is a person who lacks any sort of magical ability. Muggles can also be described as people who do not have any magical blood inside them. I am muggle born, that is to say that I come from a couple of people that to a large degree didn’t pursue an outlet for magical thinking. They medicated themselves with substances to avoid it.
Regardless of whether I ever get to stand among my heroes with a published novel, writing is my medicine. What is yours? Paint, kayak, dye silk ribbons, plant an orchard, raise bumblebees, photography? A minimalist lifestyle on wheels? Not knowing what THE THING is, is an invitation to go deeper and follow what you are curious about.
Writing saves me from muggle life.
The feedback on what my work is missing is the same invitation. Go deeper, work on my spells, and incantations of storytelling. I may be able to fix it or it may be that I got the valuable lessons and its time to let it go, like a Tibetan Sand Painting. Whoosh…gone. Next.
I would love to hear what feels like magic in your life. ( comment section)
Thanks for coming,