If there are a zillion writers, I’m sure there are a zillion answers to the question. I write because I get to play with the Universe. Create a universe. And it’s based on things I’ve experienced and seen and read and watched in other people. Because as far as I write against the grain, there are still inherent moments that come from the place of me.
Greenwich Village, that is. Over the week, I had to be in the East Village one day and the West Village on another. Not a hardship! I love the energy pulsing through those areas.
On the East side, two of my favorite bookstores:
And on the West side, a rubber stamp store (yes, I have a collection, although it’s been a while since I used them):
And a good place to eat at 46 Greenwich Ave.:
The day I took the pics of the West Side, it was freezing out. But the sharp slap of cold across my face made this place even more of a comfort. For the record, they sell a fantastic root beer.
It’s been a while since I posted pics of Frankie and he’s been posing in pretty darn cute ways, so here he is:
I’ve read books that were so elegantly crafted with a sense of place, I assumed the authors had traveled to those exotic locales. And then I’d read an interview where they’d say, “Nope, just did a lot of research.”
I’m on Twitter and I keep seeing author bios that proudly state they’re aspiring writers.
Aspiring. What does that even mean?
The New Oxford American Dictionary defines aspiring as “directing one’s hopes or ambitions toward becoming a specified type of person: an aspiring artist.”
And this is why I have a problem with that word. If you write, you’re a writer. If you mean you’re not a writer until you’re a published writer, well, that’s something else entirely.
Are you serious about spending the time and energy and doing the work? Are you writing? Are you crafting stories? You’re a writer. And until you own that word, why should anyone believe you?
Aspiring sounds hopeful to some. Not to me. If you write and want to be taken seriously as a writer, knock that word off your bio. It takes courage but writing is not for the weak. Writers need to have thick skins and you might as well get in practice from the start.
You are a writer.
It’s something you work at, honing your craft, learning more every day. This doesn’t change whether you’ve written one book or a hundred.
You are a writer.
It had been a while since I wrote by hand instead of using my computer and I wanted to feel the difference. Because it is different.
As a writing exercise, I created a villain. He was big and strong and evil. Bullets couldn’t touch him, bombs made him sneeze, and even a building falling on him made him lightly brush off the debris as he climbed out of the rubble.
They’re the barest hint of shadow dogging your footsteps. They’re sneaky. Every year I’m warned about the winter blues and think they’re not near me and then suddenly, around mid to late January, realize they’ve been sticking to my side.
They’re a feeling of blah. Of no motivation. And it sucks.
I marched in New York City this weekend. It was peaceful, friendly, and determined. Here are some of the pictures I took. Enjoy!
Author Dorothy L. Sayers couldn’t stand brandy—but her main character, Lord Peter Wimsey, liked it, and people kept offering it to her, assuming that she liked it as well. It was a compliment of sorts (although probably a bit exasperating for her) that people assumed such a fine detail must be true for the author as well.
Here’s the put-up-or-shut-up line. The advice I’ve been telling everyone now since I started this blog over two years ago:
Write anyway.
If you don’t feel inspired, if you look at the number of books already out there and feel overwhelmed, if there’s something more interesting (distracting) to do, write anyway.
So, if you’ll excuse me, my book needs to have some words put on the page and I’m going to do that today.
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