Time flies when you’re writing

I haven’t posted here lately, for that I am deeply sorry. But it’s not for my not working. I am in the middle of development of a non-fiction book of Southern culture and it’s taking up a lot of my free blogging time. Geared towards women, this book requires a lot of time, travel, and meticulous research. My favorite British TV character, Miranda, would say “Such Fun.” Actually, her mother would say it, but that’s neither here nor there.

It’s definitely a different change when writing nonfiction. Since I have to keep up with so many notes, I’ve resorted to the old fashioned way of index cards and a rubber band as my preferred tools of the trade. Call me crazy, but it works for me. I’m pretty sure my high school English teacher, Ms. Stallings, would be very proud that I’m using the tools she taught me so many years ago.

All of that being said, I’m trying to be more disciplined during this coming year so I can accomplish more writing than I have in the past few years. Discipline has been on my mind a great deal and I is a tool I’ve not used well at all.

There are so many things we want to write as writers, but we also let our fear get in the way of writing. Which equals no writing and too much time spent on the Internet or futzing about. I’ve learned we can talk about writing all we want, but unless we’re walking the walk and getting words down on paper, or a blank word processing document, we’re not writing. We’re playing a role and it’s called “The Great Pretender.”

I’ve pretended to be a writer many times. You have no idea how it pains me to utter that phrase. *sigh* Mainly, it’s because I’ve teen torn on direction and trying to figure out who I want to be and I can say, without fear, I am a writer. Yes, I’m also a marketer in my other job — which means I can’t devote my full time to writing. I’m hoping to soon, but for now I’m content and going to be pushing as hard as I can to get the words out into the world.

I’m a writer. It’s time to write.

My voice.

I’m sitting here, attempting to write a blog post for my “day blog,” and questioning my voice. The numbers aren’t great, but I didn’t start writing for numbers. Writing is part of who I am. It’s what I do. But I write; just like I’m doing right now. I share my voice, just as if I were speaking to you. For some reason, people just don’t seem to care for it. If they do, you’d think the elusive numbers would go up.

Every creative goes through periods of doubt. More like periods of monster ups and downs. Since we rely on what we create, whether it be words, drawings, sound, etc., we’re our own worst critics. People judging us online have nothing on our own psyche, but their actions affect us much more than our own doubts. 

I’ve even wondered if this is narcissistic, but after breaking it all down, know it’s not. Call it the antithesis of narcissism, as I’d rather boost others than worry about myself and think about myself. 

Is this the voice that works? Am I supposed to use this voice to up page numbers and sell things on my personal site? Or am I supposed to re-hone it to a straight journalistic style that is a great inverted triangle with no story? Weaving the story around a product/brand/trip, etc. is what I’m good at. I rock it out. 

I want to tell the story. 

But first, someone has to take a chance on me telling that story. Even if I just tell it for me. 

Nagging thoughts of doubt

Shakespeare wrote “To be or not to be.” As a writer and “content producer” I’m constantly using the tone we’ve heard those words uttered with so many times to ask “long form or short form.” Admittedly, I can get wordy. Verbose. Chatty. Long-winded. You name it, I can go there.  But, I’m trying to figure out what the people that read me want.

Readers, what do you want? Writers, what do you want to write? Is it a combination? Which do you find more difficult? Which do you find more fulfilling? At this point, I’m pretty sure you want to throttle due the sheer volume of questions I ask when I blog here.

Creatives are a questioning lot. We question every thing we do. We stand and look in the mirror, when we have the confidence to do so, and question ourselves. Our confidence wanes more often than not, which explains why a lot of great writers were suicidal, drunk, drugged up, or just miserable.

I’m not miserable, but I question myself all the time. I do it out loud. If I don’t keep these nagging thoughts inside me, the lighter I feel. It’s a healthy way of looking at the creative life I lead. However, I’ll admit the  nagging thoughts of doubt have been very strong lately. So strong, it’s nauseating.

I want to run away and hide from these doubts. But running only makes them stronger, leaving me weakened, further inundated with their power. And doubts are powerful. They are so much powerful than any positive messages we send ourselves. Even though when we send ourselves the positive messages, the dopamine flooding our bodies is a welcome relief.

It’s only been a few weeks ago I wrote about the creative life, vision and possibilities (linked below) on my day “blog.” What Have i learned? Well, I’m still here writing about it and that, in and of itself, tells you were I am.

Trying to push through, ignoring the nagging thoughts of doubt, and using my creativity… as much as it will let me.

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Thinking Out Loud

Pardon the mish mash of thoughts that are about to follow, but I need a place to think out loud and clear my head. My last post was about being a content producer and I’m fine and dandy with that most of the time. However, I had an email from a friend who told me  (I’m paraphrasing) “stop writing for the small amounts here and there and write the book you want to read.” The same week, another dear friend told me “I don’t want to see you waste your talent by stopping and doing social media exclusively.”

I respect the hell out of both of these women. I adore them. And I take what they say to me very seriously, as I know it comes from the heart and with my best interests in mind.

What is the book I want to write? What is the book I want to read? Where am I supposed to go in this world of writers and tell this story, when I don’t know what story I want to tell. I’m not reading fiction right now. There’s been nothing drop in my lap that excites me. I am reading non-fiction and have a serious stack of self-help books on my end table. Believe me, I don’t want to write a self-help book, because I just don’t know if I could handle the Sex and the City style mocking that happens in every book store in existence.

Quite honestly, I’m struggling.

I could go on, ignoring the voices of these dear friends. But, I can’t ignore them. You see, they are in my head, nagging me, every single waking moment, of every single day. Even now, the voices are ricocheting around in my gray matter, making me cry. I don’t even know how to go about figuring out what the book I want to write is. I also know I can’t sit here and ignore those voices firmly entrenched in my thoughts.

What I do know is I have to figure it out.

It’s been a while…

It’s been some time since I’ve been here to update. I’m still writing. In fact, I’m producing some of the best content I’ve ever written. However, I’m not sure of where I belong in this wild world of publishing. 

Most of the content I’m producing now is online. Gah, that makes me sound like a factory — the worst kind. 


I’m no longer a writer, I’m a “content producer.” That makes me sound like a hamster in a wheel, doing nothing but running in that damn thing all day long, never getting anywhere. 

That’s messed up. 

I need time in my head. Time to think. And then, I need to come here and pour it all out. 

After all, that’s what this space is for. 

I just want to write.

I just want to write. Today, tomorrow, every day. That’s not even a complete sentence and quite frankly, I could care less.

People are driving me bananas. Yes, you heard me correctly. Just color me yellow and call me Chiquita. I’m there.

I think the part of what I don’t get is that people don’t understand that writers are artists. Sure, they are things I can write right off the top of the old noodle. I’m great at someone giving me a topic and writing on command, it pays the bills.

But, if I’m writing, no matter what it is, fiction, non-fiction, I need time to write. Not just write. But I need time to research, to process, to outline, to think, and right now, I’m not getting that.

I’m frustrated.

While I don’t want to offend the people I know, I  just want to sit around in my underwear, drinking green tea, writing inhaling nibbling milk dark chocolate.

Is that too much to ask?

Writers are creatives. We can’t talk on the phone and write. We can’t answer 100 gazillion emails and write. We can’t fix every problem and write. We can’t go out for coffee and write, unless it’s with other writers who respect our need for contemplation and quiet.

We. Just. Need. To. Write.

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NaNoWriMo — Aaarrrgggghhhh!

I’m feeling like Charlie Brown. You know, when he’s running for the football and Lucy yanks it out of his way? He lands on his back yelling “Aaarrrggghhh”.

That’s where I am.  Just call me Charlie Brown and currently, I’m running for the kick. Writing, writing, writing and not stopping. Purging my brain and writing my finger tips to the bone.

I’ve got to get to the 50k mark. I have to. It’s a moral imperative, or something…

Lordy, I hope I don’t miss the football this time.

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