So, here’s the deal. I’m a writer (a pretty good one if I and the two friends I’ve ever let read my stuff have anything to say about it) and I’ve written a book. It’s called Fishsticks and it’s about a hapless, slightly hopeless girl who’s in love with her brother’s best friend. Her solution? Invent a fake fisherman boyfriend to make him jealous of course! It sounds like a trite romantic comedy set-up but really, it’s anything but.
So I’ve got the supposed hard part down – I wrote the 25 chapters and edited the 25 chapters and polished my poor baby until it gleams. But I’ve just discovered the hard part really – the steal yourself for rejection, send out letters with pieces of your heart wrapped in paper, waiting on the edge of your seat for answers part. The finding an agent, getting published, seeing your dreams on the horizon yet so far out of reach part. In other words, the part I can’t get myself to do.
Because, well, I’m nervous. I’m nervous and I’m scared and I’m worried as hell that the minute I start to choose this path it might lead me somewhere I’m afraid to go or, worse, somewhere I don’t want to go. And, as I’ve been told before (and it really was news to me), I guess I’m kind of afraid of change. Afraid of change, a control freak, and a little indignant on the feasibility of such dreams.
I have another book I’m working on now you know. Well, really I have quite a few ideas rolling around inside my head but I picked one and I’m trying to stick to it but it isn’t working out too well. So, this is my solution. See when I’m sitting down to write lately, I do EVERYTHING within my power it seems to avoid it. I have started writing long, lengthy emails to friends because, well, I have to write, what I write is negotiable. So I’m going to try and ramble here, a little pause, and then get myself back to work. I’m not sure if it will work but, well, I’m pretty sure it’ll be entertaining.