All the running and screaming!

Well, it has been literary chaos around here.  We have been script frenzy-ing, and editing Nano novels, getting them uploaded for sale on Amazon.  Exciting, but nerve wracking and very, very, very trying!

But, it is done.  "Falling Leaves" is on Amazon, as well as a few chapters on Figment.  I would love people to read on Figment and tell me what you think.  I will happily send you a free copy for a few comments.

I am a writer.... am I a writer?

Basically, it is the inner torment of my life. 

I am a writer.  When words flow from my fingertips, I feel this rush.  I feel like for the first time, I am creating something, forming something, being omnipotent (as the washing and vacuuming piles up behind me).

But, then, it all ends.  I stop writing.  Life gets in the way.  I don't know where to turn, and I end up working on the philosophy of that song, "Oh, so lovely sitting absobloominglutely still.... I would never break til spring, crept over the windowsill"....  And I do, I find myself sitting, without moving, shunning the outside world, longing to be in my virtual world of make believe, but afraid to cross the divide.

I don't know why I feel this way?  Somehow, I should KNOW that when I am writing, I am alive.  But, almost like a creepy vine, something stops me from moving ahead.  I become afraid, paralysed by it.  It takes all my strength to escape the clutches of apathy, and move forward. 

So, I have this constant struggle, a fear of failure, of not being good enough, of just not being wise, and it stops me from actually writing.  The irony is this, by not doing, I prove to myself that I am a failure, I am not good enough, and I lack wisdom. 

Today I promise myself.  I will write everyday.  No matter what.  Whether it is good, bad or indifferent.  Surely I can carve out a few minutes from my still-sitting lifestyle to write something. ;)

That eerie feeling

Well, I came home from seeing "The Hunger Games" this morning.  It was good.  But, it was not as good as the books.  The books are amazing.  They left me with a feeling that is so hard to describe, like, after finishing them, I couldn't pick up another book, talk to another person for fear of not knowing what to say.  Moved, but, something else.  The movie left me wanting quiet, to think, but not as much as the books had.

I have experienced the feeling only twice before.  The first time was when I read "Tandia" by Bryce Courtney.  It is the sequel to "The Power of One", and more amazing.  I took a whole stack of books camping that year, but after finishing "Tandia", I was mute.  I didn't speak for another day, didn't read for another week, and was changed forever.  I spent a lot of time crying at the river, much to the confusion of my dog.

The only other time it has ever happened to me was when I wrote my first novel, "Falling Leaves".  This is the bit that sounds really weird... I was so taken aback when I was writing it, not wanting to finish for the evening just because I HAD to know what was coming next.  I would burst into tears, and get really frustrated with myself because I should have known what was coming.  When the novel was finished and I had to edit it, I re-read it.  In a night.  I couldn't put it down.  Again, this annoyed me because I wrote the thing, so I shouldn't have been surprised in the re-reading.  But, I was.  When I finally decided it was done enough to share, others told me the same thing.  (However, they also may be biased).

Anyway, my complex segue is this, my book is now on Amazon, in book and Kindle format.  It is not perfect.  I know I need to re-edit it again, and there are some bits I really want to work on, but for now, I am happy with it.  When I have the courage, I will tweak it a little.  If you want to, pop over and give it a read....

"Falling Leaves" - paperback on Amazon

"Falling Leaves" - Kindle edition