Today’s post is the beginning of a new series for my Wednesday’s Writer Spider Street Fighter blog. I wanted to call it Confessions, but decided that might be misleading and that my blog might end up on numerous porn sites. But hey, if it sells books…
Then I thought that perhaps individuals who frequent such sites—for some reason other than research—might not read. Not that porn regulars don’t read, but everyone knows it takes two hands to hold a book or eReader.
I decided to call it—well look at the top of the blog.
During this series I will offer confessions famous authors make public and then add one or two of my own. And I’d love it if you also added yours. (To be clear, confessions in regards to your writing habits.)
A Confession Is?
I have to confess, I’m not sure what a confession is. Do we need a priest?
Here is the definition from Webster that most fits what I am trying to do:
An acknowledgment or declaration, especially of one’s faults, misdeeds, or crimes
The summer before the fifth grade, I was dragged by a cow. ( I know: How in the Hell? Whole other story.) My jaw was broken in three places, so I started a new school year—and new school—with my jaw wired shut. The small town was clicky, especially my peers. I was an outcast. The teacher assigned us to write a story. I couldn’t spell worth a darn and knew nothing about punctuation, but I stood up when the teacher asked for volunteers and read my story about my dog being run over and coming back to life. Kids came up during lunch and told me they liked my story.
I was hooked.
In the eighth grade, my English teacher, Mrs. Stephens, recorded my short story and played it for her other classes.
Senior honors English, Mr. Duff called me, The Writer.
How Stephen King’s Confession Helped
My method of attack has always been to plunge in and go as fast as I can, keeping the edge of my narrative blade sharp as possible by constant use and trying to out run the novelist’s most insidious enemy, which is doubt. Looking back prompts too many questions: How believable are my characters? How interesting is my story? How good is this really? Will anyone care? Do I care myself? When my first draft of a novel is done, I put it away, warts and all, to mellow. Some period of time later—six months, a year, two years, it doesn’t really matter—I can come back to it with a cooler (but still loving) eye, and begin the task of revising.
Whenever self doubt creeps its way into my thoughts, I reach for King’s confession, read it, and then I write as long and as hard as I possibly can. My self-doubt is put on notice and buried in the deepest, darkest catacombs of my brain.
Side Note on King’s Dark Tower
Photo credits for today’s blog:
Top image: Flickr Creative Commons by Eddy Van 3000
Skeleton Confession: Pixabay by Nemo
Girl: Flickr Creative Commons by free parking
The Gunslinger: found on several blog posts http://momentumbooks.com.au/blog/ten-reasons-the-dark-tower-adaptation-will-probably-never-happen/
To prove I love hearing from you, for those who share a comment, your name will be placed into THE MAGIC JAR. If you comment and link back to my blog from your blog, your name will be placed in the magic jar twice. On December 29, 2014, my alien friend ( or ghost) (or Walk-In) (or whoever is hanging around at the time) will reach into the jar and pull forth a name. That person can claim one of the following:
2. A $20 gift certificate to Amazon via email.
3. My opinion of the first twenty pages of your novel or novella. (Not that my opinion is worth anything, but it is someone else’s opinion. Something I look for every chance I get. Just thought you might be looking also.)
The Science Fiction Reality blog is a little science, a little fiction, a little about writing, a little real, and a lot of weird.