Happy Insecure Writer’s Support Group day! For those of you unaware of it, writers are often just a tad bit insecure. A few years ago a wonderful writer reached out and created a place for us all to bond and share our hopes, dreams, and fears with each other and the unsuspecting populace.
Once a month we rally and rattle our cages!
And this is that day!
Okay, so today isn’t really about insecurity, or maybe it is. Insecurity masked as nostalgia. I’ll let you decide.
A few days ago I found myself thinking about my first book. Not the first book I ever attempted, mind you. That died at 175 pages and I have no idea where the body is. But my first completed book. The Essence of Chaos.
It’s an epic fantasy and has been massively re-written over the last *cough* “many” years- losing almost 200 pages from its original starting weight, and gaining a lot more readability in the process. I still really like it, and someday it will be published.
But that’s not what today’s blog is about.
It’s about going back to that joyous feeling of writing as a brand new writer. I had written short stories before the Essence of Chaos—and the aforementioned abandoned book—but I was still wet behind the ears. Innocent. I used to write long hand back then (before my joints started pointing out that really wasn’t cool ;)).
Mostly my little flashback took me back to a really wonderful time of my life. I was unemployed (okay, that wasn’t great ;)) and living near the beach in Santa Cruz. Every morning I’d get up, look for jobs, then dive into my writing. Pads of lined paper were filed, double spaced so I could go back in for those first edits. After a few hours of the wonder of seeing a world I created come to life, I’d go walk along the cliffs overlooking the ocean, have lunch, then dive back into my world. A few more hours, then dinner, then more writing.
It was magic.
I wasn’t thinking about publishing, or reviews, or the next book, or finding an agent—I just wrote. I LOVED my characters. I’m a character driven writer, so I love all of my people, but those characters in the Essence of Chaos will always be special. The wonder of my first real book (I completed the rough draft during this time) combined with massive amounts of time and living in a place I adored really combined to create a wonderful memory.
I have to think that all the stress as of late, book two being over two months late, massive amounts of other stressors ganging up and bitch-slapping me recently, all made my mind pull up this memory. Not to make me nostalgic and sad (although it did at first). But to remind me of the magic of writing. Even though I am employed in a full-time evil day job, and no longer live walking distance to the ocean, I can still grab some of the magic back.
I really hope so anyway.