Jaime Lee Moyer: Midnight Secrets and Lies
Social Media Icons Follow Me on Twitter Circle Me on Google+ Check Me Out on Flicker View My Pinterests Buy Books on Amazon Buy My Books at Barnes & Noble Follow Me on Goodreads Check Me Out on Etsy

Throw yourself in the midst of danger, but keep one eye open at night

I’m always making something. If I’m not writing, I’m quilting, crocheting, or doing some kind of craft. I can’t just sit and watch a movie, or one of the TV shows in my queue, I have to do something with my hands. My dining room table is covered in baby presents I’m making for a co-worker, and a quilt I’m making for a friend.

My day at work yesterday sucked out every ounce of cope and energy I had, compounded by the need to run a few errands when I got off. So I watched a couple episodes of Grantchester, and I made key chains on my desk.

Most of these are for someone else (shhhh….don’t tell) but I made a different kind for myself too. When mine was all finished, I added two engraved metal charms back to back.

One says imagine. The second one says believe.

I have no trouble at all imagining different worlds, different societies and the people who live there. None. I have more ideas lined up in my head than I will ever have time to write.

As I watch some friends seriously consider giving up writing, while other friends soar to heights I’ve never dreamed of–I’m having a little trouble with the believe part of the equation.

And it’s not that I don’t believe in what I’m writing, or that I don’t think I’m a good writer, with worthwhile stories to tell. I do. But the universe keeps sending me secret messages, many of them wrapped in silence, that all revolve around “you’re not good enough, you’re not special enough, and who do you think you’re kidding.”

Things aren’t helped along by real life. I lost the entire month of April to fighting off plague 2.0.5, dealing with the aftermath of the hail storm that destroyed my car, and still having to show up at the dayjob. The less said of April the better.

Writer doubt is the worst doubt. It’s evil and insidious, and creeps into how you see yourself, and your work. Trapped inside your own head, those doubts eat away at any confidence you’ve managed to build up.

I want to burn all those doubts with fire, especially the ones planted by others. I want to rage at false perceptions about what I write. I want to rage about friends giving up because the genre world and marketing is so totally fucked for women.

I won’t, but I want to. Oh do I want to.

I’ll keep writing, and look at my symbolic little charm, and believe.

 

 

 

 

Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.

7 Comments

  1. Kathryn Allen
    Posted May 20, 2016 at 10:32 pm | Permalink

    I get some of the same messages, though I’m not trying as hard to make contact (and I think it’s less about the universe and more the human world that stays so silent) It is disheartening when some people seem to profit from being loudly offensive while people who can write struggle to be heard, but when I think there’s better ways for me to waste my time I get a story idea and write at my old speed and with the crazed idea I’m creating something that works, and for those days I’m not giving up. That, I guess, is my sign from the universe that whether anyone else ever reads it or not I’m supposed to write that story. Which kind of sucks but then I’ve spent plenty of time putting a spin on other sortd of negative attention :)

    • stillnotbored
      Posted May 20, 2016 at 11:04 pm | Permalink

      I don’t ever feel as if I’m wasting my time writing. But I watch people like you, and other women writers who are ultra talented, who can’t catch a break–and I wonder about the entire system. How sad is it that I believe in my friends, and myself, more than the powers that be ever will?

      I don’t know. On the one hand silence (lack of support, feedback, comment, etc.) makes me doubt. On the other hand, reviews that bemoan the fact my characters like each and are happily married (because happy couples are boring no matter what else goes on)give me a whole different kind of doubts.

      Something is broken. That something might be me–but it might not.

  2. Posted May 21, 2016 at 7:55 am | Permalink

    Ooh, those charms sound perfect. I’d love to see a photo if you ever feel like posting one!

    I believe in you and in your work. And I can’t wait to read your next book!

    • stillnotbored
      Posted May 22, 2016 at 11:07 am | Permalink

      I’ll take a picture tonight or tomorrow and email it to you. If I forget, remind me! I’m a little frazzled from work.

      And thank you. :)

  3. Katherine
    Posted June 13, 2016 at 7:14 pm | Permalink

    And just this afternoon I was in my local library looking for a stash of summer reading (and cookbooks) and there was Against a Brightening Sky prominently displayed in the new book section. A friend saw me pick it up and asked whether I knew anything about the book and whether her daughter would like it. I told her it was part of a great series and sent her into the stacks for the first Delia book.

    One thing that I have learned in all my years teaching is that silence doesn’t mean nothing is happening or no one is noticing. I’ll spend and entire semester wrestling with a class that seems to not care and not want to learn and then eventually read the student evaluations to discover that more students than I had expected not only cared about the class but really liked it and learned something from it.

    But silence is hard, because our inner voices…or rather, our inner doubts…fill the silence.

    Someday, when it doesn’t take the entire summer to recover from the school year, I hope to get back to writing fiction (as opposed to all of the other writing I do). I’m not sure, though, whether I’ll both to try publishing. I love stories where the main characters like/love each other. I don’t want to read about the all too real world. I live there. I prefer a bit of romance with my fiction.

    Well, this is longer than I meant. Hang in there!

    • stillnotbored
      Posted June 20, 2016 at 11:42 pm | Permalink

      I’ve tried to reply to this twice, and WordPress keeps eating it. WP is also supposed to send emails when people post comments–and it didn’t.

      Really not ignoring you. Really.

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *

*
*

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>