I spent last weekend in a writing conference which, for me, was a total blast. Surrounded by successful writers, not-yet-successful writers, and writing coaches… literally everywhere I went there was someone who was smiling at me and encouraging me.
The conference kick off was Friday evening. Writers could anonymously submit the first page of their story, have it read aloud and critiqued by 2 famous authors. About half-way through the readings I had a moment of heart stopping panic. One of the famous authors was reading an anonymous submission of a first page, and it sounded exactly like the story I just finished writing – but it wasn’t my submission. Now a little known fact is that when I was in the middle of writing my story my house was broken into and my laptop was stolen. Guess where I kept my manuscript? – yep, on my laptop. My internal dialog went something like this:
Is this the person who stole my laptop?
No. These are all writers here, they wouldn’t take my story and say it was their own.
Really? Because you’ve never heard of plagiarism?
Maybe they bought my laptop and found my story on it and decided to make it their own?
I started looking through my notes and started to feel my anxiety dissipate. I had taken some notes at a previous seminar about how there are no “new” story lines.
For example:
“Moby Dick” A story about obsession, takes place on the ocean, a sea captain is obsessed, he must kill the great white whale because he sees it as the embodiment of evil.
“Jaws” A story about obsession, takes place on the ocean, a sea captain is obsessed, he must kill the shark because he sees it as the embodiment of evil.
“Run Silent Run Deep” A story about obsession, takes place under the ocean, a sea captain is obsessed, he must kill the Japanese destroyer ship because he sees it as the embodiment of evil.
Get the point? It’s possible to write the same story in very different ways. The page that was read was from a young adult fiction piece, and my story is sci-fi romance. I can’t wait to see how different and how similar we end up being… but I still want to get my story published first.
That would make me successful, right? A real writer.
In one class a young woman (probably published) raised her hand and asked, “Don’t you have to earn the title of ‘writer?’ ”
But can this condition also help with levitra 20 mg the weakening of the actions of erectile dysfunction in men that is an inability to fight against erection loss due to inadequate blood circulation to the male penile tissue. Blood tests may heal reveal free viagra samples the presence of virus. Make sure to hire a lawyer who specializes in personal injury cases. buy cialis no prescription The medicine like other substance will produce more serious symptoms for those who have used the drug much more their drugstore order cheap cialis time. First thought: Oh crap. I’ve been saying I’m a writer and I’m not published yet.
Second thought: Wait, I say I’m a runner and I’ve never won a marathon.
It took me years to finish my first story. I was afraid of being judged for the way I write, the way I think, the way I see the world. How many times do we not do what we truly want to do because we’re afraid? Afraid we won’t be financially able to afford it? Afraid it won’t be “good enough” or that “someone won’t like it.”
I can hear you now. “Hey Mel, how does this tie into your blog?” Well, the bits of inspiration that were shouted to us by William Kenower at Sunday’s seminar struck me as this week’s blog topic and what I wanted to say.
“Do what you love and you’re fucking bulletproof.”
Oops, that’s Colin Ferguson.
William Kenower’s advice was this: “Don’t be afraid. You don’t get to hold on to the opionions of others (good or bad), because writing is receptive. It’s not about the answers you have, it’s about the questions you ask. You are not in charge of the answers.”
To quote him in a larger advice-for-the-world kind of way:
Writing is a receptive act.
Life is a receptive act.
Our job is to ask the questions. Our imagination will provide the answers.
Our job is to ask the questions. Something else will provide the answers.
So this week, my readers, I charge you with this mindfulness.
Be careful what you ask.
Listen.