S. McPherson's Blog: On my way to being a writer - Posts Tagged "journey"

Picture this: Me; a school teacher by day, aspiring author by night, hunched over my keyboard, tapping out my latest novel, obsessing over every word and fixating on every sentence.

Then fast forward: After tormenting myself with the desire to find that perfect first line, I painstakingly craft a list of approximately one million agents (not as much an exaggeration as you might think) that I decide to send my book to.

Days, weeks and months pass. Throughout which, I receive multiple rejections and 'try again next time's'. I tweak, I rewrite and I edit within an inch of my life. When nothing seems right I decide to do a bit more research and discover that the recommended word count for a novice writer like me is 75,000 to 80,000 words. Hmmm so that means my 108,000 word self-proclaimed masterpiece is slightly over the limit; give or take thirty thousand words!

Though I’m sure this is not the only reason for the relentless rejections, it certainly works against my chances. I stare at the screen, my reflection creeping into view and as my eyes meet my own, I shake my head…Idiot!

Oops! Did I call this post, 'Book Fails'? Of course I meant 'Book Sales'. All ten of them in a fifteen hour day; sat outside, squinting in the sun, baring my teeth and trying to wipe away the sweat, smothering myself in perfume disguised as sunblock.

Obviously, I was thankful for every book sold and when combined with the internet sales, I was doing quite well. But to me, "well" is never well enough.

I stuck it out for as long as I could but eventually my enthusiasm to have a numb backside at yet another book fair waned thin. The rose-coloured glasses came off and some much needed clarity came into view. Something had to change...

Image by © Mintyeggnog

The promotion wagon pulled out of the station and I leapt on; breathless with anticipation and angst.

Here goes nothing. I told myself as I watched the redbrick buildings zip out of view. The wheels made a rhythmic clanking sound as they whirled along the track and for a moment I lost myself in the beat. Chuga, chuga, chuga, chuga, chuga, chuga… but then the whistle howled and looking up, I realised it was time to jump off.

Parade one starts now…

This stop was fun. Guest posts, appearances and whimsical people asking all sorts of whimsical questions. One of my favourites was when Lina Rochelle of Cover to Cover said: ‘Describe a day in the life of an accidental sorceress’

This is what I wrote:

A day in the life of an accidental sorceress consists of you discovering your powers and subsequently trying to figure out how on earth you ended up with them. Let me tell you about my day to further explain my point:

My eyes flicker open, squinting in the sunlight streaking, uninvited, through my living room window. There’s a stabbing pain in the back of my head and I feel like I’ve guzzled a mouthful of sand. Where am I or more importantly who am I? One-minute I was yelling at the TV remote to work and the next thing I know, rays of colour are shooting out of my eyes and setting the television ablaze.

I rub my aching temples as I pull myself into a sitting position. It’s carnage; bits of shattered plasma screen, sparking wires and a collection of black shards surround me. As I look down, I realise the wires aren’t the only thing sparking. Little ripples of blue shoot from my fingertips. I hold them up to my eye, getting a better look.

What is going on?

Steadily, I get to my feet, trying to remain poised on my tiptoes to avoid slicing myself on the glass.

Ugh! I think. Time to clean up this blasted mess. No sooner do I think the words do the sparks from my fingers appear to leap out. Diving into the chaos on the floor. They dart and swivel around me as I watch them in awe, scooping up the debris and shoving it somewhere unknown.

I think back to last night in the bowling alley where a peculiar man at the counter had handed me an orange juice even though I had asked for a lemonade. He apologised for the mix up but said they were out of lemonade and thinking nothing of it I drank the juice. Not long after, a voluptuous lady with tumbling red curls and a tongue ring had swanned in asking for her orange juice. The man went as pale as snow and the lady and he got into a heated argument eyeing me as though I might explode.

At the time I assumed some loony lady really wanted her orange juice but as I look down at the inexplicable madness around me, I start to wonder. There has to be something more to this. Somehow between yesterday and today I have become an accidental sorceress. This could be really good, or really bad. Time to make a plan of action:

Step one: Clean myself up and make sure my eyes aren’t actually glowing like I feel they are.

Step two: Return to the bowling alley and find the man behind the bar.

Decided, I march towards the bathroom forgetting of course about the translucent shards set to stab me and sure enough one goes right through the sole of my foot. I yelp, hopping animatedly as I collapse on the couch.

‘Ow, ow, ow.’ I moan, blowing on my heel. I peer at the gushing wound, trying to see where the blood is coming from. I blow again, gasping when droplets of blood start to blow away like bubbles on the wind. Mesmerised, I watch them sail into the air before bursting into oblivion. At last I return to my foot, noticing that the sting has stopped. Frowning I peer closer; the sole is unblemished; no cut, no speck of blood, it’s as though the injury never happened.

Woah!