A few weeks ago, on a west-bound train, I decided to do a bit of soul-searching, and in the course of it, I decided it was time to Get Serious about my blogging life. I blog in a few locations, my decade-old LiveJournal (that one’s friends-only, so I can be as emo and dramatic as I want), my dog’s blog, and my main blog, 101 Achievements, which is the local-interest blog I do with my husband.
And of course, there’s this blog, that I’m supposed to write in regularly, so that someday, when I’m famous, you can all go back and read about how little ol’ me got my start. (Well, that’s not the ONLY reason I’m supposed to be writing in this blog regularly, but I like to think of that as motivation).
So, I made a vow to myself to update this weekly, on Sundays. As this is the third Sunday that has passed since I made the train-time decision, and the first time that I’m actually posting, you can see how well this is going.
The problem, in part, is that I worry that no one will care what I’ve got to say. With my 101 Achievements blog, I don’t worry: we do fun things, review restaurants, drink fancy booze, and attend all the fun free events this city has to offer. That blog is designed to be about excitement. We started it to help us get out of a ‘go to work, go home, watch sports, go to the bar’ rut that we had gotten into, so there’s never anything boring going on there.
But in my writing life? I’m not a JK Rowling or a Sophie Kinsella. I’m just Fox, whose anxiety prevents her from sending query letters, who prefers to sit in coffeeshops and listen to sad music when she needs inspiration. Fox, who is participating in her eleventh NaNoWriMo, even though not one of them has thus far been published, and only going a little crazier for it.
And who is that interesting to? Me. My mom (hi Mum!). My dog Lucy, although she’s excited when I say anything to her, whether or not it’s related to my so-called writer life.
And that’s why, when writing on a train, somewhere outside of Harrisburg, I decided I need to be more regular about this. Because I know there are other people out there like me, people who have written something, something that they sometimes believe in enough to want the rest of the world to have a chance to believe in it too. And those people, probably also like me, like to read almost as much as they like to write. And they probably like to do the crazy-sounding inspiration-seeking things that I do, like sit in gardens waiting for faeries to show up, or go on long walks while listening to dramatic songs and pretending they’re starring in the music video (at least I hope that last part is true, or I’m going to feel rather silly).
When I’m published, this is what I think it will be like:
Travel to obscure independent book stores to meet fans and sign their books.
Hours spent in front of a notebook in Cambridge bars.
Cross-country train trips my publisher will send me on so I can finish the Next Book.
Late nights spent responding to fan mail.
Having Maks (or Louis or Tristan) for a partner on Dancing with the Stars. (Sorry, a girl can dream!)
Lots and lots and lots of tax-deductible brooding in coffeeshops with sad music as an important part of the craft.
But now, what’s it’s like is just this: Fox, in front of a computer, obsessing over Twitter, snatching up travel arrangements whenever she can get her hands on them, scribbling things in notebooks in the middle of the night (only some of which are readable in the morning), and struggling through poorly-executed-but-initially-promising stories every November. Oh, and lots and lots of brooding in coffeeshops with sad music as an important part of the craft, but without the tax-deductible part.
And since I know that I’m not the only crazy broad out there going through this, I’m going to commit to keeping you all informed on how this part of the story goes. Twice a week. Every Sunday, and every Wednesday. And maybe some Fridays, if I’m feeling inspired. Because every famous writer started out a little like this, and if I’m going to make it, I’ve got to enjoy every step of the journey. Starting now. Feel free to come along for the ride.