Who are we without our choices? Am I a certain political party/religion/career because that’s what my parents were and what my environment dictated or because I chose those things?
When I look in the mirror, I see myself as an amalgam of my choices. Mine. Not somebody’s naysaying, all-controlling, all-knowing demands. Because nobody is responsible for me. And I like it that way.
So, who are you really?
In 2009, I was sitting Kenya in my friend’s yard, watching the chickens chase each other and drinking Kenyan chai, a strange, delicious tea that contains nicotine instead of caffeine, when I made a decision:
It was time to write the novel I’d long been avoiding.
I only had a tiny netbook computer, whose screen was about the size of my hand, but fueled by about ten cups of tea a day, I started writing my novel. One-thousand words turned into five, five-thousand words turned into ten.
Then, 15,000 words into the novel I got stuck, and everything fell apart. The novel had major structural flaws, the tea was giving me… digestive problems, and soon, I had to leave Kenya for Uganda, effectively ending my writing. Dozens of hours of work were wasted.
Or were they?
I’ve been editing a short story for nearly three weeks and I’m stuck. When I was working on it the other day, I got so depressed I said, “I hate this. I never want to write short stories again. I never want to write fiction again. I suck at it too much.”
In other words, normal feelings when you have writer’s block.
What problems are you having writing shorting stories and getting them published? Where are you stuck? What are you having a hard time with?
If you’re like me, you’re probably looking for balance, balance in your creative life, in your work life, in your social life. You want to know how to balance your creative writing with your blogging and platform building. You want to know how to make money while also pursuing a career in writing. Oh and you’d like to finish reading a book every once in a while, too.
If you want to be a writer, stop worrying about writing well. Instead, write now.
Earlier this week, I was blocked. I tweeted my friend Andrea Cumbo, “I have low creative confidence right now. I’ve forgotten how to write fiction.” There was guilt associated with that statement. I thought, You’ve forgotten how to write fiction, and yet you write a blog about writing? What a hypocrite.
So guilt tripped into action, I sat down and wrote a few sentences.
They were bad. Really bad. I almost threw up in my mouth they were so bad.
But still, I wrote a little more and when I felt I had been through enough torture, I stopped, satisfied I had written something at least. I didn’t write well, but I wrote.
