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.

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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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