March 16, 2022
Week 75
Emotional State: Mastering My Fate
Books & Writing
Between last week and this one, I’ve printed out the manuscript for troublesome Book 2, read the entire thing and filled it with scribbles, cross-outs, and notes. I’ve added and removed sentences and left highlights to see where I’m at and what needs to be done.
My biggest issue with this book is not what happens – that’s pretty solid – but lies with the themes. The core of the book is not where I want it to be, so some of the tabs are places where I mention the theme. I needed to visualize if it’s there too much, if I repeat myself, if it’s not there enough, if there’s no build, etc.
I am a visual person. I need to see what’s being explained, whether that is how my world builder is going to add a socket in the room with wiring and access to the inner workings of a wall or in themes in my book. The tabs help me do that, as does the software I use to plot my novel, as do my handwritten notes.
Now I need to decipher my own handwriting (I wrote fast and small – it’s going to be tricky) and edit the novel for round 3, while fixing the layers of themes and the way I address them at the end of Act 2. I’m pretty sure I can do it.
It feels like I should’ve done this before. I should’ve printed it out, marked it up, ripped it to shreds long before I got to the third revision cycle. But I didn’t and I’m alright with that. This is where I am with troublesome Book 2. It will get there. It will be beautiful; it will be not quite as good as Book 3, but close enough for government work.
Close enough indeed.
Life & Marketing
The spin cycle continues here. Am I doing things the right way? Am I doing it wrong? How do I find my readers? Are my newsletters worth the time I take to write them? Did I go too far with the latest change?
Seriously, authors can get impostor syndrome not just from writing the book, but also from everything and anything associated with it. A bent piece of paper can lead to a lashing of our souls; a sturm and drang to write up in our journals. Why do we do this to ourselves? The measurements, critiques, judgements, concerns, anxiety, and all-around nuttiness that is writing a book. (I don’t mean the writing part – I know why I do that.)
I’m not even including in that list what writers do to other writers. No. This is all things we do to ourselves. And then other writers’ actions and comments pile on top, like salty potato chips on a stacked plate of ribs at a barbecue. The judgements for sending out 6,000 arcs, the list of dos and don’ts in writing, marketing, and expression. The snarky attacks with themes of “you’re not a real author” on fan fic writers or indie authors or fill-in-the-blank authors.
I’m on TikTok – Booktok and Authortok mainly (although sometimes the algorithm serves up some interesting, aka frightening, content that I don’t understand why it thought I needed to see it) – and there has been a slew of drama recently. Writers attacking reviewers. Reviewers and Booktok blocking writers or saying writers shouldn’t follow book reviewers (because apparently we don’t read). Piracy. A trigger warnings war. A plagiarism drama so complicated and intense that not only would it be a good basis for a soap opera, but it’s hard to follow in the 15 – 60 second videos where it all plays out.
And then you add in the dating drama on the main for you page between Modern Warrior and Chelsea Hart, or the drama on the DnD side of Tiktok, or the creator who took their videos down after getting caught as a hypocrite (I really do see some frightening stuff on there), and I wonder why my impostor syndrome is so high.
Last week, we took the stepkid to the mall to buy some warmer clothes, because they forgot that the US is on the opposite season schedule from Australia and were freezing. I first noticed the lack of masks when we were walking in, but when we stopped to buy a coffee, I noticed it even more. People turned to look. Suddenly, three people in masks (us) were the odd men out in a sea of maskless faces.
In that moment, I had an itch, a qualm, a “I don’t fit in” thought that had me rethinking my need to wear a mask. I kept it on, because I snapped out of it and remembered it was about my health and theirs. But the point of this story is this: I’m 48 years old and still fighting a knee jerk reaction to ‘fit in’ with the masses, even though I ran out of f*cks a while ago.
And I wonder why I have imposter syndrome over what content I shared in my newsletter. Seriously. It’s a newsletter, not my life’s work. I need to get over it. But first, I need to get over my need to fit in, to do what others do, and stick to my own path, because if nothing else, it’s all I’ve got.
A line from an amazing poem comes to mind, which is where I’m leaving today’s journal.
“I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul.” – William Ernest Henley