Scene: A combination of several recent conversations.
Starring:
Jane, a mish-mash of no less than four people.
Me, an author.
Open scene.
Jane: I want to write a book.
Me: You should.
Jane: But I can’t.
Me: Why?
Jane: Well … I don’t have a plot, everything’s been done before, I don’t have time, I don’t know how, I don’t know anything about publishing, people will make fun of me, I’m not really a writer, my dog needs walking, I’m afraid, my hair needs washing, I have double-jointed thumbs, there’s a threat of garden gnome invasion, the zombie apocalypse looms on the horizon, I’m secretly a unicorn hunter and it takes up lots of time …
[at this point Me starts daydreaming about RPattz, because Jane's already made up her mind and nothing Me says will make a difference]
… self-employment taxes, not to mention the diseases.
Me: … Hmm … sparkles …
End scene.
Two years ago, I could have given any single one of “Jane’s” reasons as an excuse not to write. At some point, I probably gave them all. (Except for the obviously fake ones. My hubs walks the dog, and people make fun of me so often it’s like a national pastime.)
Then I MADE THE CHOICE to MAKE A CHANGE.
I can tell you until I’m blue in the face, but I’m a person you know. Maybe you have a hard time hearing it from me. So.
Listen to Meg Cabot:
“… sitting down and actually doing it.”
And Maureen Johnson:
“Dare to suck … when you are learning things, you suck at them.”
When you want encouragement, solid advice, cheerleading and cupcakes – real or virtual – I’ll be waiting right here.
Until then, pass me that New Moon Blu Ray, will ya?
