I think most of us, at one time or another; have thought how great it would be to write a novel. I also think we have all tried our hand at writing poetry. What most of us haven’t done is get serious about writing.
Author Eri Nelson recently commented on Facebook that, “In my moments of shaken endeavors, I will rejoice in success of my resolve to try.” This statement exemplifies what being an author is really about. If you write because you are compelled to do so and you rejoice in the effort, that is enough compensation, because, usually, that will be all the compensation you ever get.
Do not write because you think you are going to be rich and famous. That concept is an illusion, and with some a delusion that can become an obsession causing metal problems. Write because at that moment in time you feel free, alive and excited about writing the next chapter and the next. Becoming one with your story is living the book as you write it. Even to the point when you know that the story must end, you want to continue. It is at this point you write the sequel.
For those of you who have always wanted to write, but were afraid of failure and/or ridicule, I say follow your passion and dreams. Find time in your busy life to start one sentence and keep going until you have a paragraph. The next thing you know is that you have written your first chapter. From that point forward you will be hooked and nothing will get in your way of becoming an author; not even yourself. Which, by the way, is the only real thing blocking your success.
I remember starting my first murder mystery with fear and much anxiety. What if this and what if that? Oh, my, how do I write the first sex scene? How do I describe the first murder? How do I make it believable? When the time came to describe these topics, I was surprised to discover that every movie, TV show and written article I had ever seen came to mind, and I was able to write every juicy detail with vigor and take the reader to places they really didn’t want to go.
“Mitt, you are one sick puppy,” was what I heard from many readers who were unable to stop reading until the book was finished. I may be a sick puppy, but the readers reveled in my sickness. Like my wonderful wife explained to her elderly mother after she called while reading Evil in the Mirror; “Mom, it’s called imagination. I am perfectly safe with my author husband!”
Thank you, Mum, for being concerned about your daughter’s safety. You are my best critic.
Write on,
Mittster
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