Hey! This is hard. Has anyone else noticed? Instead
of another blog about how hard this is, I thought I’d spew out something
useful. Like my mantra.
The following is what I’ll read whenever I feel like
Elspeth from Her Fearful Symmetry, concentrating all my psychic energy on one
thing in the hopes of creating a small shift in the physical world—all from a
strictly spiritual vantage point. Like Elspeth, all writers face the
possibility that their efforts won’t be noticed. Yet we take this gamble, the gamble
of ghosts.
My work in progress is about a young girl who thinks
the universe is sending her signs to guide her through adolescence. She interprets
these signs in extremely self-serving ways, almost ensuring they become self-fulfilled
prophesies. This whimsical, strong and charming MC of mine would be all over
the notion of a writer’s mantra geared toward spiritual revitalization. Like Sweeney
Todd on a five o’clock shadow, in fact. So Melia Carter, this one’s for you.
First, Jessica's:
Now mine:
(It’s a combination of The Irish Blessing, Murphy’s
Law, the Apostle’s Creed and the Bipolar Disorder Association’s mission
statement.)
Today my word count will match my genre. The
keyboard will rise to meet my fingerpads. The wind at my back will be shorter
than the day is long. Spellcheck and autosave will not fail me, but grant me
the serenity to type in a rhythm that’ll fuel daydreams about the day I pay
someone to ghostwrite the myriad ideas churning through my head.
I’ll always have faith in myself and my writing. I will
never again cringe at boasting membership in SBCWI when I mean SCBWI (and
shouldn’t it be SCBWAI?), for the only reason I make dumb mistakes like that is
because I’m busy composing the next scene in my book, which is far more
important to get right. It’s a book, after all—not just five letters. I won’t
sweat the small stuff. I won’t obsess about the inevitable typo (or two) that’ll
show up in my book when it’s published. I won’t pine for Borders. I’ll take
amazon.
I will get an agent—and it won’t be the day before
they become obsolete. Oh God! I am not obsolete I am not obsolete I am not
obsolete. Computers can’t write stories; I can. And just because my stuff is in
the slush pile doesn’t mean I write slush. I don’t write slush I don’t write
slush I don’t write slush I don’t write slush. And if I do, at least it’s
better than sludge.
Talent will find a home, talent will find a home talent
will find a home talent will find a home talent will find a home, and that home
will NOT be underlined in red on predators and editors. Because then it’s back
to Square One. I will not have to go back to Square One. Square 5,689, maybe.
But not Square One. Never Square One, for I have learned so much—and it only
takes one yes.
That’s my mantra. Feel free to borrow. Meanwhile, may
the odds be ever in your favor. True talent will find a home. Keep hoping. Keep
dreaming. Keep writing. It only takes one yes (or two).
Now let’s rock the revisions.
Who the heck is that screaming in the background of Jessica's affirmation? A baby sister? How unsupportive!
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