Telling True Lies

canstockphoto13593413I’ve been stuck for a long time, re-writing bits and pieces of my novel. It’s the windmill at which I’m constantly running. I’ve come to question whether I have enough skill or ambition to be a writer.

When I read about other writers, I learn that they’ve been writing since they had enough manual dexterity to hold a writing utensil. Testimonials in this writing culture always say “I have to write”. I’ve written similar things. Earlier this week I wrote that I get a little more odd when I don’t write for awhile. I get so hopped up on words that they saturate everyone around me and putting them on paper provides some relief.

I’ve been telling myself that I’m a writer for several years now, but it’s a lie. I write – sporadically, in fits and spurts. I have a rough draft of a first novel that hasn’t engaged me. I set goals only to stroll leisurely by as they die from neglect. But then I write a blog post and it’s like lancing a boil. I feel a sense of relief – I can tell myself once again that I am a writer.

This last week, I had a come-to-Jesus talk with myself. I looked at the truths that I’d been avoiding. I have a little talent. I have very little ambition. My ambition for writing has been the same as for anything else I’ve done in my life. I am the jack of many trades and master of absolutely nothing. I’ve never taken anything all the way.

canstockphoto21574383For all the whinging on I’ve done over the years about balance and writing and family, the fact is, my life is about as balanced now as it will ever get. I love my family, I have friends, I’m not in a tight spot financially, I’m relatively healthy – ambition just seems like a huge expenditure of energy that would only take away from what is, it seems to me, a pretty damned good life. So why this repeated banging of my head against the wall? My ego desires that which my ambition ill-reflects.

I was comforted by reading The Renaissance Soul by Margaret Lobenstine, because like many of her clients, my interests have been short-lived and intense, then I’m onto the next thing. I have a passion for knowledge, but not for the pursuit of excellence. There is no limit to the number of subjects that interest me and every time I tell myself I’ll follow through to some expertise, I find something else. My cognitive bias is at work – rationalizing all these incomplete endings by an ever-hungry pursuit of knowledge.

As you get older, you see the themes and patterns emerge over the course of your lifetime. In my twenties, I believed that people can change – that they can will themselves beyond their nature. In my forties, this seems like dubious optimism at best and willful ignorance at worst. If I stripped away all the layers, learned skills, coping mechanisms, the bravado and brass, all the mannerisms and quirks, I am the same as I ever was.

As a child, I learned to lie with alacrity. Hungry for approval, fearing what were sometimes dire consequences for minor misbehavior, I could look you in the eye and lie my ass off without a twitch. I’d get mad if you didn’t believe me. When I was six, I was on the playground with a classmate. We were goofing around and I fell down and ripped my tights. My family was poor and I drove my mother into rages with the pairs of lost gloves, lost lunch money, stained and ripped clothes and misplaced anything.

canstockphoto23479633I convinced my friend to walk home with me, leading an unknowing lamb to the slaughter. My mother opened the door to us and immediately saw the shredded tights. I knew what was coming. With a quivering lip and tears in my eyes, I blubbered, “Scottie pushed me down on the playground.” She angrily told him to go home. The lie did not work. But that is the first time I remember feeling guilty for lying.

There were lies of survival and then there were the weird lies. In eighth grade, I once told a new friend that our family used to own a baby grand piano. Since my family had just moved from an apartment above a tavern, to the floor above a dilapidated gas station, I’m not sure why anyone would believe that or why I was compelled to lie about musical instrument ownership.

During my daddy issue phase of dating, I dated a jealous drinker. This was funny (eventually), since I fail at small talk and flirting and really, I just don’t inspire that much passion in other humans. But drunks will be irrational, accusatory bastards at times and so I lied some more. My number of past boyfriends grew incrementally smaller until my hymen almost completely grew back.

The older I got, lying became more difficult, especially as it grew unnecessary. I had healthier relationships and more self-confidence. Fear was no longer a factor, nor was the need to impress anybody a priority. Lying became insulation, little pretensions to keep me sound.

I’d lie to get out of social commitments, saying I had to work when all I wanted to work at was remaining un-showered while curling up with an Agatha Christie novel and slurping rainbow sherbet. In my current life, my tribe knows me. I can say “I’m feeling very surly and introspective, so I’ll have to pass” and it’s an easy, honest moment. And it has made it easier for me to say “yes” at other times.

These days, the polite lies get a pass for guilt. There’s no point in hurting someone’s feelings unless they’re asking you to help them with a move or whether or not they should marry the guy that “borrowed” their life savings to start a head shop. The lies that seem less excusable are the ones that I’ve been telling myself. If I keep lying to myself, nothing will ever change. And something inside me has to give.

canstockphoto10829751I’ve been out walking in the woods this week. Some days, I think that if I just keep walking, the pretensions would slide off of me, all the raw neediness would be exposed, and I’d see whatever truth it is that I am supposed to see. Meditation in motion.

The truth is, the universe doesn’t give a shit whether I write or not. I imagine that the universe would prefer that some of us would just shut up – it’s a noisy planet. The truth is, I won’t die if I don’t write and I don’t owe talent or ego anything.

The truth is, I just can’t seem to let it go, this idea of writing, this idea of actually being something. And this novel – the truth is that it’s awful because I’ve been trying to be a real writer and I’m not one. But I’ve always been a bit of a liar and sometimes liars who don’t lie anymore are really good at telling stories.

60 Comments on “Telling True Lies

      • I feel a lot like what you’ve described. I have no problem coming up with creative ideas, but then I have a difficult time powering through them to the end product. For such a creative, quirky person that I am… I have very little in the way of proof, and that bugs me. I often wish that I could say, “I’m really creative… here, take a look at my complete works… *displays a vast cornucopia and amalgamation of ingeniousness*”.

        I have since realized that I just need to find someone who is a “do-er”. No, I’m not talking about someone to “do”… though, that is important, too.

        I do need to partner up with someone for joint creativity (which, if you’re smoking a joint, creativity does typically follow)… or else I fear that I may not even be able to ….

        *had to get back to work*

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        • For me, I just think my approach and the pressure I’ve been putting on myself has been the real problem. I need to focus on what I like to do, not what I think I should do.
          I don’t play well with others when it comes to creativity, so on my own, it’s do or fess up to the fact that it’s not really driving me.

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  1. Me thinks maybe it’s time you forgave yourself, for just being you. Step out of the writer for a while, read what you’ve written and forgive yourself your mistakes. Think about it. You would forgive a child for getting a C in a test. Time you forgave the child that lied so many times as well.

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      • It’s a good release. I encourage writing therapy as much as possible. My blog is my morning meditation. Good piece. Well written as per normal. The book will happen in it’s time I sure.
        PS. I want first peek!

        Liked by 1 person

    • It really was an epiphany for me this week. It just occurred that I was trying so hard to be a writer, that everything I wrote rang false. I had the weird sensation of owing my characters an apology for not telling their story properly, as if they were saying “stop being a pretentious wannabe and just tell the story”. Lying I can do.

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  2. wow. amazing post. resonates a lot. i love they hymen reference lol…not laughing at but with πŸ˜‰ you’re honesty is refreshing and gives those of us real enough to look inside, courage to admit that it’s okay just to BE. imperfect. thanks for the share. love LOVE this piece. i’d say you’re a writer. just keep doing what you’re doing if you love it. otherwise don’t beat yourself up. and stop. just my humble advice. but what do i know? i struggle with the exact same shit lol. feel better? cyberhugz

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    • Thanks. I amused myself with the hymen line as well. I don’t know if I’ll ever learn to just be, but sometimes it feels like I’m starting to ask myself the right questions. Self-honesty is tough sometimes, but I know if I don’t dig for it, nothing ever changes and I walk around with the sense that I’m not okay. The writing thing has been killing me lately and I think it’s because I get distracted by the whole writing culture. Some of those messages can really make you feel inadequate. I’m going to keep writing lying and stop trying to be a writer.

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  3. I’m kinda with you w/r/t the writing stuff. I like writing my blog, but I tortured myself through a rough draft of a crappy novel last year and when it was over, I thought, “Is this it?”

    I was chatting with another blogger and he was going on about how “passionate” he is about writing and I’ve read his work, as well as his blog, and you know, I’ll say it–it’s no great shakes. I don’t think he’s particularly talented, or his writing is particularly interesting, but he’s out there, all passionate about it.

    Anyway, after I spoke with him, I started to think, I’m passionate about a lot of stuff–am I passionate about writing?

    And it’s not helping that my career is finally (finally!) starting to take off. I have to stop and ask myself, at the end of a twelve hour day, do I want to go into that “zone” of writing that blocks other people out, or do I want to go over my kids homework, or have dinner with my husband?

    Still, I get excited about words. I got an idea for a story last week that had my blood pumping. I think the last line of this blog post, “I’ve always been a bit of a liar and sometimes liars who don’t lie anymore are really good at telling stories” would be a great first line for a short story.

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    • One truth that I am really beginning to understand is that writing about writing is not the same as writing. When I start doing a lot of that, I know I’m on the self-bullshitting train. Blogging and reading other blogs has made me acutely self-conscious about this claim to writer status. It makes me wince on occasion to read the breathless devotions about being a writer/artist (writist, arter?).

      When I made the decision to focus more time and energy on writing, I unloaded my job and volunteer work. I thought time was the magical answer. It wasn’t, because more time is just more time. It’s not a personality transplant. I enjoy writing. There are some days when it absolutely delights me. There are some days when I’d rather wash windows – delightful in its own way. Like seeing outside. I’m rather passionate about that.

      I’ve been feeling so much pressure to get this lead balloon of a novel off the ground. It finally hit me that it completely sucked because I was trying too hard to be a writer, instead of just telling the damned story. I think I’ve had some sort of realization this week that may help me move forward, but I’m still as likely to sit down and write as I am to garden or do fake Kung Fu fighting with my daughter. I have equal opportunity passions.

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      • There is a lot to be said to forcing yourself to sit down and do the work. There are a lot of times when I feel uninspired, but I just force myself to grind it out. I’m always surprised with what I produce.

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        • I wrote on a schedule in March, but the writing was an exercise in futility. I got a couple of salvageable short stories out of it, but much more of it was dreck. I’ll likely go back to a schedule next week, but with more helpful intent.

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  4. Oh thank goodness! I was truly afraid you were going to say you were stopping. Michelle, I am SO in the same place as you! I find myself bitterly resenting the YOUNG successful writers who actually get published – and the more I love their work (Neil Gaiman, anyone? Not that he’s exactly young any more, but he was when I found him!) the more I resent them. I then went through a period of thinking, “Well, maybe I can just come up with a frothy, silly series – a la Janet Evanovich – I can at least be one of the popular kids, and maybe make some money.” Then I realized I was spending more time fantasizing about my dust jacket picture than actually coming up with a story that hasn’t been told a million times before. I’m not simply telling a story … and I’m still not very good at the “write every day” rule, but I AM enjoying what I’m writing, I’m pretty sure it hasn’t been written before, I think it might be sellable but is unlikely to make me any money and VERY unlikely to be studied in university classrooms … and all of that is just fine.

    I love the way you write – the clarity of your style. I would really encourage you to put away the book you’re hating, and maybe just poke around with some short stories for a while. Have you signed up for Creative Writing Opportunities (CRWROPPS)? It’s a Yahoo! group – here’s a link. https://groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/CRWROPPS-B/info … Every day they send information about contests, submission calls, writer’s workshops and so on. That might be a good approach for you – to write specifically for a few contests (or tweak what you already have). I’ve been threatening to do it myself for years… πŸ™‚

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    • I don’t envy other writers their success as much as I envy their work habits and drive that got them there. Even writers who are not deemed literary have to put a lot of time and effort in to find some level of success. I think, too, this is part of this whole epiphany for me. If I don’t have that kind of ambition, then I need to re-think what I’m doing and be honest about how much work I want to put into writing. And maybe that will take some pressure off me so that I can stop trying to be something and just do something.

      The other thing I’ve tossed out the window are writing rules – like write every day. I don’t want to. I’d rather spend some days getting completely filthy in the garden or hanging out with friends. Everything has become such an internal struggle for me when it comes to writing and I just don’t want it to turn into just another “to do” on the list.

      Thanks for the kind words on the writing. I do submit work on occasion, but I am determined to re-write this novel. Again. I just need to take another run at it with fewer literary canons staring over my shoulder and writer’s advice echoing in my head.

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  5. I love your sentence β€œI have a passion for knowledge but not the pursuit of excellence.” That really resonated with me. I want to learn so many things but not put in the work to be great at one thing – so far, anyway.

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    • Then I would definitely recommend that Lobenstine book to you, if only to put things in a more positive context. I’m only halfway through and that’s where she goes over some practical ideas for implementation for all these interests.

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  6. Hi Michele,

    I am new at the blogging business and I came to it because I wanted to write. To learn the process. To prove myself in something new. maybe I would be the new (add the name of your favorite author). So, I started to read blogs. Yours came up pretty quickly. I liked it. It resonated with me. Your spring piece was delightful.

    Now, today’s entry will be a favorite for a long time. I recognized myself so much! But I have a title for what as been my life so far: “Project Manager”. I am my life’s Project Manager. Since I am between major projects (no birth, move, kids’s change of school or status), writing as become my new project. I suck at it, but, hey, the process is fun!!!

    Thanks for your musings.

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    • Thank you for the kind words about the blog posts.

      I put off writing for years and now that I’ve come back to it, the lessons are plentiful. I started blogging 3 years ago to become accustomed to “writing out loud”. It’s been an enjoyable experience, but sometimes I have to remind myself that blogging and writing are separate ventures.

      It’s a great way, though, to get started on the writing journey and there are a lot of blogging/writing resources along the way. Welcome to the blogging world – I hope that you enjoy yourself!

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  7. While there are a LOT of writers out here, there are (increasingly) fewer story tellers. In some ways, it is a direct result of the increase in technology. At one time, the only way to correct with the past was for someone to repeat it, often, and usually while the tribe was huddled around the campfire. Even the era of storytelling to mass audiences has mostly fizzled with the shift from radio to television to mobile devices. Apart from “A Prairie Home Companion” and maybe “This American Life” there is a scarce few storytelling venues anymore.
    That’s why blogging as storytelling may be the only element of technology that saves the culture of the now.
    Keep telling your story
    Phred

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    • I love listening to the storytellers on NPR. Some of my favorite comedians, like Mike Birbiglia, are also storytellers. It’s interesting to think about blogging being an electronic version of that medium.

      Before I started blogging, I was unaware of the overwhelming number of people who are writers. Unless you’re completely driven and/or inspired, it can sometimes feel like spitting into the ocean.

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  8. Okay. So, let’s embrace what we ARE. I know you ARE a writer, because your voice is clear and unique. Being a writer doesn’t require you write novels that get published. Just write. If your mind is a gadfly, then follow it. If it lights on something that need words, weave them. Rejoice in your fits of passion and supreme talent for lying. Hit the woods and your garden with gusto, then allow yourself to move on to the next thing, and the next. This is who you are. Hallelujah!

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    • Well, in a fit of despair, I am rarely this clearheaded. Still, I felt like I had some illuminating moments that may light the way forward. Writer has become such a loaded, stressful term for me. I’d rather be a liar/storyteller. It seems easier. Thanks for the affirmation, though. It’s appreciated.

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  9. Some writers start early, some start late. Some start out brilliantly, some take a long time to build. If the novel’s not good (and I haven’t seen it), the question could be, Should I write? But it could also be, What can I do to make it better? If it won’t let you go, go back to it. Write.

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    • It won’t let go, but I’d worked myself up into a state of despair over how awful and awkward the re-writing was becoming. I just lost track of the whole point of it, with all this writer nonsense weighing in on every word. So I’m back to telling a story. It feels better.

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  10. You touched on a few things which sounded rather familiar to me. When I was getting my first degree in art, I met quite a few “artists” who HAD to paint, or draw or sculpt. These young men and women would get up at any hour and go right to the studio, working furiously. Their morning pee or cup of coffee could wait, they had to create their art! Some of these people were also incredibly talented, but others were not. It always blew my mind that someone could have all that motivation and no discernible talent. I had (some) talent, but my motivation was not there.

    Now that I’m writing, it’s kind of the same thing, although the presence of any talent on my part is even more sketchy than in art school (no pun intended). I’m convinced there’s a novel in me, but the attempts to get it out onto paper have been sporadic at best.

    I’m done my morning coffee now, I should probably go get productive – clean the garage, or write the novel?

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    • I turned to garage cleaning myself. Still blowing dirt out of my nose from it. Three days ago.

      It was easy for me to get caught up in the pageantry of writing. All this talk of dedication to the craft, reading too much about writer’s lives, even reading the canons of literature, ended up muddying the waters.

      Storytelling has a clear purpose – not to impress people with word gymnastics or purple prose, but to convey a story that entertains and carries the reader along. Just tell the story you want to tell.

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  11. People lie to get things and to get out of things. They lie to build themselves up and tear others down. Other people lie for none of these reasons. They lie to entertain.

    I have a nephew like that. He tells people that he plays with dinosaurs and converses with ogres. Seriously, he does and he is way too old for that. Lately, he has been on a Sherlock Holmes kick and talks about the mysteries he has solved.

    There is much about this that is crazy and sad, as well as wonderful and innocent. For him, lying is not currency, it is what he uses to breathe magic into a world that he is not comfortable with. Sometimes he doesn’t realize that others see through his lies and that is both delusional and destructive – but when his lies breathe magic into the conversation, he becomes – in a word, an entertainer.

    It is something for writers to think about. Most of us dance with delusion until we can breathe magic into words and become – entertainers.

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    • This is a great comment. I’ve been thinking about why we tell lies/stories in the first place. There are, as you say, many reasons why we lie and tell stories, but breathing magic into the world sounds like the best one yet.

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  12. you do not have to be a novelist to be a writer. πŸ™‚ πŸ™‚ You are a writer, and your “voice” got me to read the entire post with great interest.

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  13. This post made me reflect…on many things, including my own writing. And I think this is living proof that you are a writer. Definitely talented ( I know I’ve said this before). I believe that when you get passionate enough about a writing topic, you’ll take it to conclusion. It doesn’t need to be about ambition, but passion – you just have to get it all out, on paper. And it will be fabulous writing. Maybe it’s not necessarily fiction…

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    • I think that’s the problem I’ve been having in terms of genre. Blogging has been a route for personal essays, but doesn’t help me bridge the gap between nonfiction and fiction. It is also likely why I’m struggling with fiction – there’s a learning curve.
      It feels like the novel should be more “writerly”, but that’s been a mistake, since it’s not really where my strength lies and not where I find a consistent voice. I’m going back to my story and changing the POV (rewriting the entire novel) and focusing on the storytelling aspects. Something’s gotta give!

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  14. I relate to much of this Michelle – the lying as a child to try to stay safe, the lying to myself, the starting, but not carrying through with many projects that were going to make me “successful”, the inner conviction that no matter what I’m not good enough. I have a post in mind about my inner need to “be someone”. I love that you’re going to continue writing no matter what. The same way I’ll continue this blog no matter what. As you say – something’s gotta give!
    Thank you for sharing so eloquently and honestly. Never doubt that you are a writer!
    Alison

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    • That is really a sticking point with me, Alison, this idea of “being someone”. It’s so inconsistent with many of the beliefs I’ve matured into. Being a Writer is easy to get hooked and distracted by, but does nothing to fill that gaping hole left by whatever.
      We spend lifetimes trying to fill it and it’s a pursuit of false gods. This really is for a blog post unto itself – the idea that the hole is, in itself, a defining part of our characters. What would happen if we stopped trying to fill it? Apparently I’m feeling very philosophical this morning!

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      • I had a chance to heal some family-of-origin stuff being back in Australia. The result is it feels as is I’ve let go of the need to “be someone” though I find I do still need to remind myself that it’s okay to be ordinary, to just be my ordinary self. I know what you mean about trying to fill the hole – I just practice presence as much as I can, and the mantra “this is it”. Don and remind each other with it. Whatever it is we’re seeking – “this is it”.

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  15. Great post Michelle. I turned fifty and thought it was time to do something I had wanted to do since my twenties. It was ‘me’ time now that the children weren’t so needy, so I began to write. I’m up to novel number three and sometimes I ask myself, like you, ‘what the hell do you think you are doing?’
    Anyway, I plod along, learning things along the way. I write crime, so I have learned so many fascinating things. I think if you approach your writing in a positive way and just enjoy the ride, it may take the pressure off. I’m a determined person and I like to see a project through to the end, so I guess personality comes into it as well.
    PS I think you write really well.

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    • I tend to be goal-oriented for things like getting the garden in or house chores, but the end game for the novel seems to elude me. Finishing a draft isn’t the same, I discovered, as finishing the novel. The real work begins after that first run-through.
      In lieu of doing the work, I let all this noise about being a writer distract me from a sense of purpose. I feel like this post, which I spat out in desperation, has helped me to realign to the actual pleasure of writing and telling a story. I’m optimistic about the writing week ahead. I hope yours goes well, too!

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  16. When I was a child, I looked into the world and made up stories of its origin. The house on the hill, the family that lived there. The dead seagull on the beach, how it had gotten there. I couldn’t tell people why I became a “writer,” until I remembered the long rides in the car where I entertained the family with everything passing outside the window. The problem is, as you say, having a lack of ambition. Getting a story or novel “right” (to the point it doesn’t make my skin crawl)β€”I’ll spend untoward time on that. But this “fire in the belly” to be published, it waxes and wanes and most of the time I’d rather move onto writing something new. I wish you the best of luck on re-visioning the novel. In between walking in the woods, playing with the kids, or whatever else calls.

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    • I was a big introverted daydreamer as a child, but my daydreams were never the fantastical type. I have a friend who writes sci-fi and she would create and imagine entire worlds. I often wonder if my lack of imagination is a hindrance, but I have a more grounded imagination – I like thinking about how ordinary people become extraordinary in big and little ways.

      The idea of “re-visioning” the novel has taken hold over the last week. My fire-in-the-belly feeling is the desire to look at my work with something more akin to delight than irritation. I need to go back to writing a story just for me and then I can worry about everyone else.

      Thank you for sharing your experience!

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  17. (1) I think it is interesting that you seem stuck on a definition of what a writer is that may have been formed in childhood: “A writer is someone who got famous for publishing fiction books.” So, first of all, you might want to sit down and write down the names of ten or twenty writers off the top of your head and see who made your list–and who didn’t. Obvious to everyone but you that you are a writer.

    (2) Next, and not unconnected with (1), is that you think you haven’t been/aren’t willing to work hard (enough) at your craft. You have discussed your clearly-successful efforts at this very thing, and your every sentence and paragraph reveal the results. Which is why we treasure coming here. Elegant elegance. Perfectly pieced, with no seams showing.

    (3) To address the story stop, I was thinking, since your natural, unforced metier is non-fiction, why don’t you change your perspective and tell your tale as non-fiction? Make it true–to you. To your audience. Stop thinking of it as a fiction novel, and think of yourself as Truman Capote–no–you write far better than he. Temporarily, perhaps even people your tale with real people, real places, real events. F#ck fiction. Make it truth. You can always backpedal later. What do you think–will this work at all?

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    • You’re very kind. Your first point was something I had to think about, but you’re absolutely right. My desire to write started with reading and envy. I envied how a writer could take me into their story and hold me captive for hours. I wanted that power. And I’ve wanted it ever since. So, yes, my definition of a writer (for me) is indeed someone who gets a novel published. I could do a dance around this and pretend I’m more enlightened or expansive, but in my heart of hearts, I know that’s what I’m aiming for.
      As to your last point, this is exactly what I’m doing. My novel narrator’s voice is completely screwed up because it reeks of ambitious writer. It’s inauthentic and it gets in the way of my characters and story being developed. While I’m not tossing the 1st and 2nd revisions, I am re-writing most of the novel. Thus far, it’s better.
      Thanks for taking the time to write such a thoughtful comment.

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      • You’re welcome. Point 3 felt naive even as I was writing it–skirting the edge of “Duh–That’s what all fiction writers try to do.”, but I thought there was something more buried (deep, deep) somewhere in what I was trying to say, and it seems you detected it with your Crippled Communicator decoder ring.

        I shared your definition of writer until I decided I am one. I have always been one. So, although I, too am unwilling to put in the work, and although I have hard fiscal restrictions I’ll blog about that make it extremely unlikely I’ll ever publish in the sense “that matters” even if I did do the work, I now no longer hesitate to self-identify as a writer.

        I do hesitate, as an bad luck magnet, to wish you best of luck with your book’s rework, but there is this: I’m reworking, as blog posts, parts of three tiny books I wrote years ago which I had actually hoped, back then, to sell (!), so significant amounts of book-writing good luck should be sucking away from me as a result. I’d be most pleased if some showered down your way.

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        • I do think self-identifying as anything is the most subjective we can get about ourselves, so it’s no surprise that we each have different thresholds and definitions. The trick is not measuring or having expectations of others by our personal yardsticks. I haven’t mastered that yet, but I’ve cultivated enough awareness of my subjectivity to know that I’m frequently wrong. Yay me.

          Thanks for the wish of luck. From what I’ve read, it plays a significant role in publishing roulette. For now, I’m going to deal with the nitty-gritty of another revision.

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  18. Thank you for this. I could have been sitting next to myself, having this conversation with me. Your words are familiar and surprisingly comforting, like discovering someone else has a freak disorder;)

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    • You’re welcome! While I am waiting patiently for Freak Disorder to be added to the DSM, for now we’ll just have to recognize each other and do a high five. And make ourselves write…
      Thanks for reading and commenting!

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  19. this Is one of the best oxymoron topic ever…*telling true lies*..am most honored to comment on such a write up…the creativity of your fingers shook my deepest imagination… the lie you said about you not been a writer it’s in it self a lie… you’re really born with graced fingers… tnx dear

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  20. Loved this. The story u tell could be mine so it definately resinated with me. Thank you for sharing it.

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