Alan Williams's Blog - Posts Tagged "writing-a-novel"
Five cures for dribbling (and other afflictions).
I have a very strong urge to heave my laptop out of the window.
One question throbs angrily, in pulsing red text inside my head, over and over again...
Why on earth did I choose to write a bloody novel anyway?
What could possibly drive me to this state you ask? Well, there's a good chance that it is down to one of the following things:
1) Dribbling: Time is precious and there's so little of it. After spend long and brain-numbing hours - in addition to a full shift on the 'day job' - researching and writing late into the night or early morning, I am too tired to do any more. The matchsticks fall from my eyes, the words on the laptop screen coagulate into a meaningless blur and I am dribbling from the corners of my mouth.
2) There's a hole in my pocket: After spending lots and lots (and lots etc.) of money on research, writing holidays and, especially, the self-publication and marketing of my book I feel drained in every sense. There is no profit here - I know that - but it would be very nice to feel sometimes that it wasn't just expense! Writing and self-publishing a novel is akin to opening up a money pit. You do it for the love of it of course... and yes, I know, it could be worse - cue images of penniless writers freezing and starving in a garret room a la Rodolfo in La bohème.
3) The krill conundrum: The marketing world is bewildering, so much so that even quantum physics looks like an easier bet. As a virgin self-published author, most of the time, I feel like a single tiny speck of krill swimming against a particularly strong piranha infested tide. The big fish gobble up the best opportunities. On top of that there are seemingly thousands of social media marketing options, ranging in price from zero cost to hundreds of pounds, most of them fired at me in a dazzling bombardment by the dark forces of social media itself. How on earth am I supposed to choose the one magic bullet that will work for me? ... indeed will any of them work for me? How the heck do I know anyway?
4) The invisible man: After vainly trying to solidify my internet presence and, even worse, trying to decipher the impenetrable science that is 'search engine optimisation'. All of which breeds a manic desperation that makes me want to run off and sit in the High Street sporting a placard which reads 'Aspiring writer needs visitors to website... please give generously'.
5) Locking blades with the formidable and shadowy spectre that is self-doubt: Now I know that I am no Dickens, nor am I close to being an Orwell or even a Sebastian Faulks. I also know that I never will be. That's fine I have made my peace with that... but I still want people to read my book. That is until I think "Why would they"? Is it vain and arrogant to even think that they might? ... And is it any good anyway? Every time I read it... and I'm constantly drawn to read it, I can see only the errors, the poor punctuation, the badly worded sentences the formatting failures etc. After all that effort... all that proof-reading... by all of those people for goodness sake!
Grabs laptops. Opens window. Manoeuvres laptop into heaving position...
Just then I remember the reasons why I did choose to write a novel. Let me just remind myself:
1) The blooming great joy of it: The absolute unfettered freedom that I feel when I put my finger to the keyboard and the words simply flow. It's cathartic, medicinal, liberating, energising... joyful. Magic just happens and I don't know how but I don't want it to stop!
2) That "Yes, I can" moment: Because I always wanted to do it... and I did do it! There must be millions of people out there who want to write a novel and I just have. Does that make me one in a million? That concept, that tiny thought that sparked in mind all of those years ago is now a real, tangible, beautiful thing! You know what... If I can do this, I can do anything!
3) The Pride within: The pride I feel when I open a page and read something that I've written and it's really good. Did I really write that? Amazing!
4) The Pride without:The pride I feel when somebody reads my book and really likes it. Especially somebody unexpected or who I have massive respect for. They feel good about it too and sometimes they are proud of me. At those times I know what being on 'cloud nine' really means.
5) ... and of course, just the very act of doing something I love, however frustrating it might be at times. It's simply just the very best feeling in the world.
Gathers laptop back in. Heaves a sigh instead. Sits down. Smiles. Begins to type.
The Daylight Thief
One question throbs angrily, in pulsing red text inside my head, over and over again...
Why on earth did I choose to write a bloody novel anyway?
What could possibly drive me to this state you ask? Well, there's a good chance that it is down to one of the following things:
1) Dribbling: Time is precious and there's so little of it. After spend long and brain-numbing hours - in addition to a full shift on the 'day job' - researching and writing late into the night or early morning, I am too tired to do any more. The matchsticks fall from my eyes, the words on the laptop screen coagulate into a meaningless blur and I am dribbling from the corners of my mouth.
2) There's a hole in my pocket: After spending lots and lots (and lots etc.) of money on research, writing holidays and, especially, the self-publication and marketing of my book I feel drained in every sense. There is no profit here - I know that - but it would be very nice to feel sometimes that it wasn't just expense! Writing and self-publishing a novel is akin to opening up a money pit. You do it for the love of it of course... and yes, I know, it could be worse - cue images of penniless writers freezing and starving in a garret room a la Rodolfo in La bohème.
3) The krill conundrum: The marketing world is bewildering, so much so that even quantum physics looks like an easier bet. As a virgin self-published author, most of the time, I feel like a single tiny speck of krill swimming against a particularly strong piranha infested tide. The big fish gobble up the best opportunities. On top of that there are seemingly thousands of social media marketing options, ranging in price from zero cost to hundreds of pounds, most of them fired at me in a dazzling bombardment by the dark forces of social media itself. How on earth am I supposed to choose the one magic bullet that will work for me? ... indeed will any of them work for me? How the heck do I know anyway?
4) The invisible man: After vainly trying to solidify my internet presence and, even worse, trying to decipher the impenetrable science that is 'search engine optimisation'. All of which breeds a manic desperation that makes me want to run off and sit in the High Street sporting a placard which reads 'Aspiring writer needs visitors to website... please give generously'.
5) Locking blades with the formidable and shadowy spectre that is self-doubt: Now I know that I am no Dickens, nor am I close to being an Orwell or even a Sebastian Faulks. I also know that I never will be. That's fine I have made my peace with that... but I still want people to read my book. That is until I think "Why would they"? Is it vain and arrogant to even think that they might? ... And is it any good anyway? Every time I read it... and I'm constantly drawn to read it, I can see only the errors, the poor punctuation, the badly worded sentences the formatting failures etc. After all that effort... all that proof-reading... by all of those people for goodness sake!
Grabs laptops. Opens window. Manoeuvres laptop into heaving position...
Just then I remember the reasons why I did choose to write a novel. Let me just remind myself:
1) The blooming great joy of it: The absolute unfettered freedom that I feel when I put my finger to the keyboard and the words simply flow. It's cathartic, medicinal, liberating, energising... joyful. Magic just happens and I don't know how but I don't want it to stop!
2) That "Yes, I can" moment: Because I always wanted to do it... and I did do it! There must be millions of people out there who want to write a novel and I just have. Does that make me one in a million? That concept, that tiny thought that sparked in mind all of those years ago is now a real, tangible, beautiful thing! You know what... If I can do this, I can do anything!
3) The Pride within: The pride I feel when I open a page and read something that I've written and it's really good. Did I really write that? Amazing!
4) The Pride without:The pride I feel when somebody reads my book and really likes it. Especially somebody unexpected or who I have massive respect for. They feel good about it too and sometimes they are proud of me. At those times I know what being on 'cloud nine' really means.
5) ... and of course, just the very act of doing something I love, however frustrating it might be at times. It's simply just the very best feeling in the world.
Gathers laptop back in. Heaves a sigh instead. Sits down. Smiles. Begins to type.
The Daylight Thief
