I finally finished reading one Writer’s Digest magazine last night. That is the peril of taking on too many damned things! Here’s my daily reading list: I have the Writer’s Digest, where I get so much valuable information on writing/critiquing (so I won’t skip reading it); Food and Wine magazine, a publication I absolute love; my own editing; three books from other indie authors (which I said I would read and review); Two Years Before the Mast (a most excellent book, and one I read for simple pleasure); and finally, the 2012 Writer’s Market. That’s a ton of reading, and it bogs me down daily. I fall behind and then have to play “catch-up.” Is all of this for writing? No, but 80% of it is, not even counting the research I do.
It’s not easy to do all of the above and while continuing to write (not to mention two blogs, extensive correspondence and the organization of the team. Sometimes, story writing is the least of the things I do. People simply don’t understand. There is a lot of work that goes into a story. Readers pick it up and peruse it, thinking, “Man, this shit looks easy. I could be a writer any day of the week.” Ok, pal. Go for it! You see how easy it is to be a writer in the 21st century. And Oh, do hold down a full time job that has you working nights, days and weekends. Try it and see!
Am I in a bitchy mood? YES, I am! For all the trouble we endure, all the hardships of writing and editing, all the emotional rides we take in constructing the story, all the hours of labor, and intensive thought, what do we get for it? Here’s what we get: a review which says “the ending was shit,” a comment which says “try again, loser.” I don’t have the luxury of time or a team of full-time editors to take my work and lighten my load. I don’t have a staff of assistants to fetch texts, gather information or help critique an idea (hell, even create one for me). I don’t have a contract which gives me endless amounts of money so I don’t have to hold down a job. I have none of what the professional writers have. What I do have, however, is criticism! Ah, the old critique, how I love thee and loathe thee.
What am I proving with this anyways? But, then again, no one reads this, so I could say whatever I want. Rubber baby bunkie bumber! I am Superman! “Not only could we do the weather; we could do the weather with a gorilla molesting us in the butt.” –Lewis Black (Italics mine). Random squirrel pooping on a tree limb. What time do I clock in tomorrow? SEE??
Ok. I’m done. Too tired to continue. Noting much has changed here. No photo shoot today. Don’t know when we’ll reschedule. Going to take some pics with Joe tonight, and hopefully get something for “Gothic Angel.” Editing is nonexistent. Two manuscripts need my attention, as do the blogs. Hopefully I will have time for them.
For the few of you who actually follow along, thank you. It means a lot to me.
Sounds familiar, the comment. Please don't tell me you took it so seriously.
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