All posts tagged: aspiring authors

What’s your NaNo Magic Number…?

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I wrote every damn day and didn’t. Even. Procrastinate. Once… …Okay, fine. I’m lying, and I know you know. And that is why I like you, you’re willing to entertain me and engage my lie. Oh, you’re not? Okay. That’s Cool… *Cries shamefully and hysterically* Here’s what happened. The first week I didn’t write anything. I wrote a title down…and that was three words long, and then there was nothing until about day 9. When I edited the title for an hour before deciding it was fine the way it was. Then around day 12 I started writing and wrote obsessively (that’s my pattern. Do nothing at first and then go H-A-M). I didn’t obsess over my word count or anything! The problem was…and I know it kind of contradicts one of the reasons I gave for why people should take part in NaNoWriMo earlier this month… I couldn’t resist revising, and editing, and questioning everything I typed as soon as I typed it…and it’s a problem I know…and I am working on it and…and…and…fine, …

Why do people laugh if you say you want to write?

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I love…like L-O-V-E all things books, writing and word related. Books = slight (yes, slight) obsession  (regardless of what the family say – I think it’s perfectly acceptable for an adult to have a full-scale toddler-style meltdown because they only have 50 unread books left in the house, so…). But you know what I mean, when you tell people you want to write  – ideally for a living – you’re not taken seriously. There’s a social gathering, and after the initial round of faux-polite introductions someone starts the whole what do you do thing. And it’s fine for the first couple of people: “I’m an accountant” someone says. Everyone smiles and nods politely there’s a ‘witty’ joke about taxes. “I’m a teacher” someone says. Everyone smiles and nods politely and another ‘witty’ joke about never working with children/animals, and then you say some variation of “I’m an aspiring writer”…and the others exchange sideways glances. A deathly silence fills the room. A huge ball of tumbleweed rolls through. And then the questions begin (and by the way, your aspirations aren’t cool enough for you to get …