Lack of Self P.S.

October 28, 2014 / Lisa / 4 Comments

When I wrote the last post I was laughing at myself. At the process I always go through before an event, at how silly that process is, and how I can’t seem to change that process. I wanted to get across how, in spite of the doubt beforehand, these types of events leave me feeling so rejuvenated and ready to jump into writing. How they leave me inspired by those around me.

I got several very nice comments to that post but I haven’t replied to many yet as I’m not sure how to go about it. Rather than most commenting on their own ways of dealing with nerves or on how these types of things can actually be productive, I ended up with a lot of reassurances and compliments.

I appreciate all of the support but it leaves me feeling odd because that wasn’t the intent of the post. I’m left feeling like I unintentionally went trolling for compliments. I don’t think I got my point across at all, about how silly I was and how I knew I was silly and how I can’t stop being silly this way. Instead, the way the post reads, it sounds rather like those Facebook posts I find annoying where someone says they need a hug and ask their friends to post a word or phrase saying what they think of the poster. I always resist the urge to type ‘Needy!’

Which I now realize is the appropriate word for how the original post here sounded. Which was far away from my original intent.

So thank you for all the support and wonderfully kind words. I do appreciate them, I just didn’t mean to ask for them.

Lack of Self

October 20, 2014 / Lisa / 4 Comments

I’ve been invited to join authors at a local library event.

The result? Immediate self-doubt, the sense of not belonging, of not being good enough, and an immediate need to run to my favorite author/source of support for such events, Susan Schreyer, for hand holding while I wipe my sweaty brow and shake in my shoes.

The thing is, once the event happens, I’m fine. I have no stage fright, I have no problem speaking to crowds, I love doing this kind of stuff, and I have a blast.

It’s just the weeks leading up to it that’s horrible.

Here’s a prime example. We’ve been asked to provide questions we’d like to be asked, random facts about ourselves, and questions for the other authors. For random facts about ourselves, I submitted the earth shattering news that I once tried sandpaper to get rid of freckles after uncles told me freckles came from walking too close behind cows. I sent in my responses, then read what others submitted and wallow in self recrimination because theirs seem so well thought out, so ‘real author’ like.

And when I look at their author photos, they all look so professional. Then there’s me with those freckles that didn’t give way to sandpaper.

I absolutely detest those days leading up to an event. I even find it hard to write because I feel like a fraud. I don’t belong. I’m not a real author. All those horrible negatives that creep in. And let me tell you, it’s not just a looming event that make me fall victim to that nasty inner critic. It doesn’t take much at all, especially when I sit down to write, to bring up that weight of ‘I’m not good enough’. I know the thoughts are stupid, I know I’m not as bad as I think I am, but I can never escape that little voice saying ‘maybe you are’.

All this means that for the next couple weeks I’m going to be full of doubt, resisting the urge to moan my fate to Susan, struggling to string words together, and generally miserable. Then I’ll go to the library and have a blast and come home castigating myself for once again being a fool. I’ll feel empowered, enthusiastic, and impatient to write. Until another invitation comes in.

So what makes the difference? What makes me recognize the beauty of writing, the excitement of telling a story? What makes me react so differently?

Being around writers and readers. Having an environment of those who thrill to the power of a new book, a new tale to read, a new challenge to write. Even doing an edit job for someone else gives me that sense of enthusiasm to jump back into writing. I don’t think of it as a support system because, to me, a support system means a close group of regulars. I have that, in Susan and close friends (you know who you are) who are always there. What I’m talking about here is something different. I can go to those friends and know they are going to shore me up. But being around writers and readers isn’t a shoring up, it’s a sharing of something mutual. Those people don’t know me, the enthusiasm doesn’t come from loving me, it comes from loving the same thing. Does that make sense?

Between now and The Event I’m going to struggle to write every single word in my work in progress. But I know in a couple of weeks, that same work in progress is going to be inundated.

How silly we are sometimes.

November 2nd, 2:00 – 3:00, Snohomish WA library. Come share the enthusiasm.

What Fun

September 19, 2014 / Lisa / 3 Comments

A recent debate on the public school system got a bit heated. Well, a lot heated. In the middle of the heat, I said ‘Just because someone has an opposing viewpoint, don’t assume they are uneducated on the subject.’

Afterwards, when things had cooled and both sides apologized and laughed together, I went home and had a little bubble of pride go up. Because I’d stood up for myself? Nope, I can do that easily.

Why then, you may ask?

Because I came up with the perfect thing to say, at the right time.

I didn’t have to go home and think, in the wee hours of the night, ‘dang, I should have said…’ or daydream a new version of the event where I say exactly the right thing. I actually did it for a change.

Normally that only happens in writing. Which, it dawned on me, is one of the most fun parts of writing. Our characters will say for us the things we wish we’d thought of. Or say the things we’d never have the courage to say. Such freedom.

Of course characters don’t always have the perfect response. To be real they need to stutter and stumble and go away wishing they’d acted differently. That makes them human because it’s what we all do. But at the same time I do love letting a character do the talking for me.

My work in progress at the moment has a female protagonist who’s dialog appears to be channeling my husband. For those who know him, you know his ‘Art-isms’ can be rather…interesting, shall we say? I’m having more fun writing dialog for this character than I’ve had in a long time. I simply sit back and think, ‘what would Art say?’ Actually, at the risk of offending someone, in my above school debate, Art, defending his opinion, would have said, ‘I’m not just pulling a hair out of my ass here!’

So maybe I didn’t come up with the perfect response after all.

I think I’ll go add that ‘hair’ line to the work in progress…