At the risk of sharing too much information on this crazy thing called the ‘world-wide-web’ the truth is, I do my best thinking in the bathroom.
I was just there, moved by the similarity in the words ‘dilute’ and ‘delude’. Dilution and delusion.
I’ve been diluted, and I wonder if I’m delusional.
I don’t know how other writer’s do it: run a household, raise children, work full-time and then write a weekly or daily blog while creating a best-selling novel. I just don’t know how they do it.
The only author I have met who confessed to not wanting to have anything to do with blogs or websites was Young Adult novelist Kristen Tracy. In fact, she confessed, her friends had to push her into creating a website. When I heard her story at this years San Francisco Writer’s Conference, I smiled and admired her bravery.
How could she be a successful author without a public forum?
Agents and publishers are always hammering on about ‘platform’ and ‘audience’ and ‘branding’. Give me a break. No. Seriously. Give me a break. Please.
I listened to them. I believed them. I made Herculean efforts to sustain a blog (blogs, actually). I Tweeted, I Facebooked, I made comments on other writer’s blogs. I played by rules set by people I’m not completely convinced know how to play the game. How could they? The game changes on a daily basis.
The reward for my efforts? Obvious. The sense of failure in the realization that I’m not able to ‘do it all’. The feeling of being watered down. Diluted.
And then, when that last ounce of creative energy is circling the drain pipe, the overwhelming sense that I’ve been deluding myself all along sets in.
But it’s not true. As my mentor said when he first met me, I have a ‘facility for words’. God love him.
In cooking, we can add stock and make a lovely, satisfying but quickly forgotten broth. Or we can do a reduction and create a sauce that will knock socks off. I want to write like a sock knocker. I want to learn, I want to study and above all I will not be the person who talks about the story that they never got around to telling.
My mentor also said (and I’m paraphrasing) that writing is a selfish, lonely business. Probably. But not always. And what we share at the end makes it all worthwhile.