Mother Writes: Inspiring and Perspiring

Saturday, 17 November 2012

Inspiring and Perspiring

Goodbye 'In the shade of the orange tree'?

Still sending my novel off to people. Yes, still. And still receiving a steady trickle of rejection letters. One nameless agent pointed out that they are only taking on new writers they consider to be very special indeed. Ouch! It's starting to feel kind of personal here! Ok, ok, I know I need to be thick-skinned about all this (who was it after all that said 'Success is 10% inspiration and 90% perspiration?) and keep believing in my novel but this belief is definitely wavering a little at the moment. In fact, time to come clean. Here's the truth of the matter: I am SICK to the back teeth of my novel. Everything I feel about it is clouded with a sense of weariness and that's not good, because if I don't love it, how the hell can I convince anybody else to love it??

Time for a break perhaps. Maybe I need to stop sending it out to agents (though admittedly, I've only used up about 70% of my perspiration quota) and concentrate on other things. Thankfully, I've got a great little writing project up and running which will turn into Christmas presents (no more details here as family members, I know you're reading this!) and I'm really enjoying it. This isn't making me feel weary or despondent and I know it's a way of reaching out with my writing, and actually being read! So thank you, Ms Literary Agent for telling me I'm not very special, but one day - ha ha - you will rue these words!! (And even if you don't, at least I know my family is reading me. Thank you family ;))

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Mother Writes...What's it all about?

When I was little, I imagined with the supreme confidence of a child that when I was all grown up, I'd be a celebrated writer. And by grown-up, I probably meant about eighteen. The concept of even reaching the age of thirty, let alone beyond, was off my radar and my seven-year old self shuddered at the ominious thought of not having published at least several novels by that grand old age.

Fast forward to the present. Here I am, age thirty-five, wife to a lovely hubby and mother to three gorgeous children. Now, am I writer? My seven-year old self would hold a very strong opinion on this: No, because I don't have a single published novel to my name. But I'm pleased to say that now I'm all grown-up, I'm also a bit more measured and realistic in my expectations of myself. Don't get me wrong - I love my seven-year old self for believing I could achieve that much but I have, over the years, come to an important conclusion:

If you dance, you are a dancer. If you paint, you are a painter. And if you write, you are a writer.

But we have to actually do it, not just talk about doing it. It's all too easy to procrastinate about our creative endeavours and that's all I ask of myself now: to create; to write. And if I'm lucky enough to get something published (which I'm pleased to say that I have done, in the form of short stories, reviews and articles), well, that's a bonus. And that's what this blog offers: little slices of honesty on my plate of life as mother, wife and creator of words. It's often not easy to juggle all three, particularly dealing with bouts of chronic insomnia. But I have to trust this is all part of the journey, and challenges are what make life interesting.