Writing is a Curse!

If I ever get published- and even if I don't- the first thing I would recommend to someone who wants to be a writer is this: DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!!! Run away while you still can. Writing is like have an itch that you can't ever fully scratch to find relief. It varies from full on chicken pox to a nagging mosquito bite.

There are times when you will find yourself fully overwhelmed with thoughts and ideas and passion for your story, while other times you will wish you could forget what ever it was that made you think you could put pen to paper or fingers to laptop. The second guessing yourself will consume you. Is this really worth it? Am I wasting my time? Should I care that nobody wants to read my book no matter how much I beg and plead? Is it because they are stupid and I so genius? Or is the real truth of it all what I have been suspecting since I first started... I have no business even thinking about writing a book, let alone actually doing so.

So then why do I write? I don't know. That is the wrong question. Why don't I stop? Now that is more like it. It's because I can't... When the premise for my story came to me and ideas began flowing so freely that I questioned if they were truly my own; was when it all started. Now I feel that if I don't tell the story that it will somehow eat me up from the inside out! I feel like Mr. Anderson. Neo had freed him, and yet he was compelled to fight Neo. He couldn't help himself. It seemed to be the only reason for him to exist was to stop the chosen one. Beyond all reason and sense, I feel tortured. I have quit more times than a habitual chain smoker. And yet for all my resolve to walk away, it isn't long before I start craving new ideas/characters/plots/subplots/scenery/strife/conflict/bravery/suspense/angst and soon I've found that I have lit back up with renewed conviction to never ever quit no matter how much my pack of cigs gets taxed to pay for the education budget shortfall.

I'm afraid that by the time I get the monstrosity that I call "my book" published, I will be so disgusted from spending so much time on it that I would rather die than convince anyone that they should waste precious inflated dollars on the paper and cheap hardback cover to experience what I have wasted a handful of lifetimes writing and rewriting and rerewriting and writing it all over again.

Thanks to Di for giving me this place where I can vomit my frustrations. The latest news of my book is my editor (who i love to hate and pretend in my mind that she sucks and doesn't really know what she is talking about when she slashes my manuscript like Kung Fu Panda with a samurai sword) just announced that her manuscript has been picked up by a publisher and is due to be released next spring! What a crock! Now I have no other choice but to let her cut up the corpse that I once considered my newborn baby, and turn it into something that she says will make it better and more presentable to publishers. Who knows???

What choice do I have? I turn 30 this june and while I have tried sushi and have no desire to read les miserables, I have a marriage, a mortgage and 4 kids, I have yet to take a real risk in my life. And while a marriage, a mortgage, and 4 kids sounds like a risk to most people; for me it was all according to plan. But now with 30 staring me down like a puma in the dark of night in a forest of pines, I find myself looking for something inspiring and life fulfilling. While my curse of a book is causing me more pain than pleasure, it is one of the few things that gives me purpose. It may be the risk that will offer no reward. But I'll be damned if I don't finish it!!! I might fail as a writer, but perhaps if I can complete the story driving me mad and set it free on the slick screen of a laptop monitor, it will one day let me rest in peace.

-Dusty