M. K. Theodoratus, Fantasy Writer, blogs about the books she reads--mostly fantasy and mystery authors whose books catch her eye and keep her interest. Nothing so formal as a book review, just chats about what she liked. Theodoratus also mutters about her own writing progress or ... lack of it.


Saturday, December 4, 2010

Why Write?

Missed my Friday blog deadline because my life
-- and the stupid website -- 
kept getting in the way of my writing.  

I'm reading a good book, but only at two or three chapters a sit.  I gave up on the baking a couple days because  my hands and hip hurt.  I'm behind on my critiques.  I'm a good three days behind in my blog reading.  Who knows when I'll get my next critique submission revised.  The whole mess's enough to make me wonder why I even try to write.   

Then, last week, E. J. Wesley asked:   
How do you measure success?
The question has stuck with me since I read it ... maybe because I've finally sold a couple things.

I'll ask:  Why bother writing ... especially, if you collect nothing but rejections "letters"?

What makes the time writing worth while to you?

For me, there's a certain amount of arrogance in thinking I can keep a bunch of characters on the straight and narrow of the plot line -- when I can't even start my "whine" in the right blog. 

I know why I write.  The precedent started with an imaginary playmate who appeared before I was three years old.  By the time I was four, I can remember going on adventures with Jerome [swinging like Tarzan from the neighbor's weeping willow branches] ... but not the adventures.  

In sixth grade, my teacher revealed the secret that stories were written ... and didn't appear miraculously in bound paper.  I picked up the bad habit of writing stories in junior high and haven't stopped since.  It's an itch that needs to be scratched.

No writing ... and I spend too much time day dreaming about what would happen if maybe that "strident lady" marching down the aisle of the store met up with a demon in the parking lot.  Somewhere along the line I learned how to function at the mundane level while jumping into flights of fancy --  though I suspect doing so might prove dangerous.

Why did I keep writing fiction for some six years without any positive feedback except for a few requests for partials which ended up "not being for me"?  Again, writing is a bad habit accompanied by an itch that needs to be scratched.

More important, my stories interest me.  I care about my characters.  They surprise me.  They sometimes make me laugh ... event though I don't write humor any more. 

Why do I write?  The results amuse me more than frustrate me.

[Maybe next week, I'll have time to write a more normal blog ...
before I go on Christmas vacation.]

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