Now Here is a Thought About Writer’s Block (aka Log-Jam)

Let’s be open about this. Being a writer is not easy.

There will now be a pause for readers’ varied reactions, the politest of which might be

YA DON’T SAY!!!

outrage1-620x350

 

Ok?

Right let’s carry on.

I hit this log-jam recently on Vol II of this fantasy project. Words just would not…. Not the usual problem of getting them from thoughts into intelligent or at least legible and semi-coherent statements on paper or screen. This was serious, a vague, fog across the fen lands of my mind, the characters and the motivations were out there but I could not get out to reach them and ask them what they had planned. This was a worry, after all when you go on record saying this work might be a trilogy or even a pentalogy, well you can’t just fade away after Vol I. It looks, sad. About to Rant

What was exacerbating the situation was I had these ‘bits’ of blog posts hanging about in one form or another which were nowhere nearing completion, and they and the book narrative were simply slopping about in allegorical stagnant water.

By happenstance the solution came along in the most curious of ways.

I’ll keep the actual details out, not wanting to turn this post into a platform for arguments over the subject matters, those are being rummaged over with glorious glee on FaceBook by those who like to rummage on FaceBook and compete in one of the many Who Is Most Outraged competitions which make it such a vibrant place (sarcasm).Daffy duck

Anyway suffice it to say two items on the news or social media. One new, another a very old saw which has been going on since frib’ knows how long….Now two of the arguments put forth really irritate me. You’ll just have to accept this statement and put yourself in a similar situation, in your own experience.

By another goodly happenstance I had come by a brand new efficient laptop, which enabled swift and efficient access to FaceBook. (Previous machine did not like typing directly onto social media, I’m sure I don’t know why !). So I weighed in putting in my objections in long balanced posts about reality and the quality of communication when stating one’s view OR using history as a foundation for why my view point made more sense. Then a few side-swipes at folk using obscenities. And telling those who hurled facile judgements like they were in food-fights that they’d lost the argument. These by the way were folk who in theory share the same political views as me….civil wars are always the bitterest.

Now once I had got those opinions off of the chest, and the lyrical flows were set free, well everything became easier! Firstly the blog posts popped up in swift succession and seeing them there made me feel a whole lot better. Nextly the fog lifted, the characters said ‘That where you’ve been is it! Get over here, have we got things to tell you!!’ and the book starts to rattle along.

Of course, in retrospect, all made sense. I had been annoyed with these FB warrior folk and their opinions for ages and I had not cleared my head of the simmering thoughts. There was no intention of winning an argument. No one wins anything on Social Media,Andronicus1_2572537b I just wanted to bust into these little self-congratulatory groups and scare the horses a bit. Done. And I am feeling better….muttley_laughing_by_sektor8bit-d7fv6shThey had it coming.

The morale dear reader? If the words are not reaching daylight, maybe there is something outside of your book/story/poem which is getting in the way. I would not go so far as to suggest you fire off polemics at the nearest target or throw well passed use-by-date sticky buns at people or buildings which cause offense. Nor would I advise taking a picture or model of whatever distresses you and jumping up and down on it, neighbours notice things like that. Anyway whatever ‘it’ is, such treatments may not be applicable. Suffice to say ponder on the possible exterior reasons for the log-jam, then mull over any ways you might rectify the business, even this exercise may kick-start the writing.

Just a thought.

PS…..

This is the First Vol of the fantasy project; it’s on Kindle.

Patchwork

Of Patchwork Warriors….. By R J Llewellyn

This is me marketing.

Social Graces

Sad isn’t it?

My giggling as I write this part is not appropriate, I really must get Mature Me Marketing, some day.

Interludes with Cortana

An Interlude on Stage

Sleeping Beauty. One Foot Soldier’s Account (A Tale in II Parts)

Sleeping Beauty. The Foot-Soldiers’ Side (All Tale in II Parts) (Part II)

 

 

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Sleeping Beauty. The Foot-Soldiers’ Side (All Tale in II Parts) (Part II)

Hey, not a bad watering hole this. Nice to have ale which tastes like before it’s been drunk and not afterwards…..

Now, back to the story.

Maleficent doesn’t see why she should go tracing around for the kid, I mean a curse is a curse right? She goes over a border, her sights on another of those widowed kings, I mean what do they do to their poor wives? Maleficent gets her hooks in and in a year he’s dead! Yep! NO doubt abut it, screwed him to death! Wadda way to go uh? But he’s got this teenage daughter, and like all of ‘em at that age she’s get spikey. Next thing you know she’s slipped the castle and shacked up with seven guys running an illegal mining operation. No wonder Maleficent tried to have the little monster put down! The story gets messy after that, some young noble getting involved, the kid nearly chokes on something…what I don’t care to know. But that was they’re problem.

Now there’s us. Fifteen years of putting down spinning wheel riots, hunting out Conspiracy Kooks who claim the kid is actually a boy half-elf and the king an’t his dad, and border patrol for smugglers AND the next door kingdom.

Next door? Yeh, well y’know how it goes, any instability and your neighbours are leaning over the fence. Kingdom to the east, that guy, he’s sharp. He’s heard things an’t so good back in Our royal boudoir, that the king is elsewhere looking for his royal happy-times. He knows he can’t take us on in a full-out invasion, so he nudges a bit. We’re on to him. He’s send these regular large patrols out, we ‘bump’ into them. And it always goes;

‘Hey you guys’ we say, ‘How ya doin?’

‘Ahhnn, not so bad. How’s yerselves?’

‘OK. Say, do ya know you’re on our side of the border?’

And they go, like

‘No shit?

And the corporal…it was always the corporal, he says

‘See sarge. I toldya that map wuz out of date,’

And their sarge says to our sarge.

‘Gee sorry ‘bout that guys. Ah, we’ll be on our way. Some weather uh?’

Then we report back and they report back and the officers report up the line that they doin’ all that is necessary and everyone is happy. As the years rolled on and I stuck with it I moved up corporal to sergeant and we’d play the game back to them. When we sneak over to see what they were up to and encounters happened I’d open my arms an’ go.

‘Aww heck boys! I’m sorry. It’s our l’tenant. He’s the biggest asshole ever! I told him this way was the border, but he says in his squeaky voice ‘No sur-jent! I have the latest map! Now obey your orders.’ Do you see him here? I mean Honest-To-Stars! He could no more find his way around a map that he could a brothel!’

Yeh, you had to get some fun somewhere.

An’ let me tell you if we’d been patrolling that forest where the old biddies had kept the princess none of what I’m about to tell you would have happened. But that’s what you get when a king kits out a bunch of youngest sons of second-class nobles and call ‘em the LifeGuard. It was only a money-scheme anyway!  Them having to pay for their outfits and ‘special’ training. Then wander about in groups of five making enough noise than even a deaf man could hear them! No surprise then, when next door nation gets into that forest. Led by none other than the heir to their throne himself. What was he doing there? Who knows? Maybe the kid was bored sitting at home, maybe he was running his own side-line in the smuggling racket? Maybe he’d got intel on who was in the forest. Anyways he finds her, she apparently being a girl who likes to sing, loudly.

And that’s just what we reckoned happened! Him being royal and young, just like a buck rabbit on aphrodisiacs! And she not knowing much about men. Dunno what it’s like up here, but down there, they got laws about girls under sixteen! Uh-uh. Must have been something to it because next thing we know she’s being scooted back to the palace, and an entire regiment put on guard around it. LifeGuard? Huh! They got theirs! Sent on patrol duty in one of the stinkest swamps you smelt, sewer outlet for a nearby town.

Now there’s a lot of toing and froing between kingdoms and a wedding is being put together pretty dam’ quickly, if you ask me. Some meeting between Aurora and her parents that must have been! Of course, we were up north at the time, chasing…yep you guessed it right…spinning wheel smugglers! Then check the irony, while we’re up there, the kid is nosing about the castle ‘cas it’s her first time, and wouldja believe it? She finds one dam wheel! Can you believe that after fifteen years of us poor dogs smashing and burning ‘em , some winner in the village-idiot contest five years running has left one in the castle. And, yeh the kid stuck her finger on the needle, ya saw that comin’ didn’t ya?

Well the curse kicks in and it is a doozey!

Not only does she fall asleep but so do the whole dam’ castle staff and her folks. Not just that but a big mess of thorns grow up around the place, scattering that regiment all over the place, them that were awake that is!

King Next Door makes his move! Says everyone needs to be rescued and over the border he comes with troops to help us, naturally his son is there, all noble and upright to save his bride! For solidarity show we get called back and we all trudge off the scene of the crime.

Man! And those were no regular thorn bushes like the ones veterans throw bare-naked recruits into to harden them up. These were like branch thick and castle high with thorns that would double as swords. The lad must have really had the hots for the girl, for he’s off his horse and calling for us all to join him in hacking his way through. And us and his troops are looking at each other and sharing ‘What’s with this lad! Do we look like we’re combat engineers? Do you see any siege weaponry here?’. No use trying to complain to royalty though… Yeh you got that right!…And we had to hack and dig. Chop and cut. Seven days and half the army down with sprains, cuts and hay fever and only five feet in. Someone has a bright idea and has sent for some of those new-fangled cannons to blast our way through.

With the curse going off, it’s bound to attract Maleficent. Must have got fed up of that step-daughter and the eight-in-a-bed scandal. She flies in smooth as a hawk and stand all haughty and grand demanding everyone to back off, because a curse is a curse! Us lot, it’s not the kind of thing we’re paid for right? Even the officers are a bit leery. Sonny, though he notices his father looking Maleficent up and down. The lad must have brains, no doubt reckons with her as step-mother his chances of getting hitched to Aurora and his own throne are slim no thing! The boy ups at her with his fancy sword and get this! She turns into a dragon! Wings, fire! The whole deal!

The king. He’s backing off, hiding up and half his army ready to protect him. You got it! There’s always some ready to get back to the rear area out of the front line. MY squad and me, we get stuck at the front, and we’re ducking, dodging and diving, flames, flying thorns, you name it! The lad and some of his buddies go for the dragon, y’ know what nobles are like. No surprise, a few get barbecued. The lad is carrying some good hardware though, his shield is beating off the flames. Right then up rolls one of those cannons, while the witch an’t looking, the crew get a shot off and..pow! Right where we’d be looking if she were a woman and down she goes. Of course, the lad gets his sword in her neck so as he can claim credit and since he’s about that business a lot of us pile in with our own steel and hack off a few souvenirs to impress the yokels.

Since she’s dead the curse goes and all the thorns fall away. Off goes the prince, up the castle steps, finds Aurora gives her a magic kiss or something and she wakes up, then so does everyone else. If you ask me the lad knew too much about the business!

With all the fuss dying down and everyone active again and the girl past her sixteenth there’s a wedding. In just about nine months, there’s a little Aurora! Yeh! We reckoned we wuz right all along. The kicker is though, her old man. He dies in a riding accident, or so it’s said. And his widow swift to be consoled by her daughter’s father-in-law and they are wed and the two kingdoms joined! An’t that neat?

The three old biddies? There was scandal about security and upbringing, the Church got involved and they had to flee the kingdom. Spinning wheels were allowed again, and suddenly there’s no need for so many soldiers they say, peace and happiness ever after, they say. And no severance pay, only some crappy bits of land and a few skinny hogs! I ask ya!

So here I am? Whadda ya reckon sarge? Sign on sure! What’s the deal around here? Uh-uh. Security sweep, hunt and search. Yeh-yeh. Your prince is looking for one girl. Don’t they all. He met her at a ball…..Oh that kinda ball! She was wearing glass shoes, then lost one? And last seen riding off on a…pumpkin? You did do a narcotics sweep of the guests did you??….Just the usual sunk-drunk…Hmm…..

I tell ya what there sarge. You tell your officers we gotta look out for three old biddies…they’ll have the dope of this for sure!

Sleeping Beauty. One Foot Soldier’s Account (A Tale in II Parts)

Sleeping Beauty. One Foot Soldier’s Account (A Tale in II Parts)

          I’m a great fan of the original Disney Film (No one’s bettered the transformation of  Maleficent into a Dragon)… and ‘Maleficent’ staring Angelina Jolie?…Magnificent!, then there’s the TV series ‘Once Upon a Time’. But y’know they all focus on the folk at the top, The Royalty and the Magic Folk, well they’re not the only ones in the story…..So let’s get down to basic, reality and hear from one of the folk who really had to bear the load……..

Scene: A Recruitment Table in a shabby town….

             ‘Yeh. Yeh that’s right. 18 years under my belt. I was a sergeant myself. What am I doing up here in the north-west? Oh boy! Just trying to get away from those flakes in my homeland, that’s what!

            So what do you hear? Uh-uh-uh. Yeh, that’s right. Yeh, the beautiful Princess Aurora. Cursed by the wicked witch, rescued by the handsome princes and they all live happily ever after. Oh sure, that’s the official line, trouble is they left out a few details. I mean, like Important Details. Lemme explain.  

            I’d just put my first year in, place guard. Not so bad. Y’know the score, standing about like you’ve got a stick up your butt. Anyway, there’s been this big oooh-hah on account of the queen finally getting knocked up. She and the King had been together for like fifteen years, and folk were starting to talk y’know? But I say what goes on in the royal bedroom is none of our business, how’d you like having a bunch of old ferts asking your old lady indelicate questions every month or so?

            So, getting back to the narrative, the queen gives birth to a daughter, and she’s such a cute little button no one is bitching about her not being a boy and heir to the throne. All looks rosy and there’s gonna be the usual fancy ceremonies where all the nobility get to do their grovelling and pile on with the gifts. Now this is when it gets tense, because the fairies have to have a look in. I don’t know what their like here, but in my home land we got these old biddy types see, nosing around and lecturing folk. Three of ‘em turn up and start with the wand waving and bestowing all the goodies, two of them are done with the beauty, good nature, yadda-yadda, when suddenly the main doors burst open.

            And in she comes! Tall, slender, a walk that shows off all the best features, long black hair flowing out from under this horned helm, high cheek bones an’ smouldering eyes that could burn a carpet. Everyone is gasping, the women giving her ‘the look’ and the men all wishing they could be treated badly by her. Yep! That Maleficent was some package. Turns out no one thought to ask her if she wanted to be there, her being a witch an’ all, but it’s like I say ‘Ya gotta hear the other side of the story first,’ ‘Course she’s pissed, or maybe she was just looking for a reason to be pissed. Maybe she knew the king when he was still young and unattached, and, I mean…who’s to say?

            She does a few crowd pleasers with lightening bolts, then launches into a curse on the kid, something about a nasty end, the usual drill. Well the third old biddy, she’s not got ‘round to her business. Now why she can’t undo the curse, I don’t know, like do I look like I got wings? But she puts a rider on it. She must have been getting soft in the head with advancing years, because, get this. She says, the only thing what would go wrong was if before she got to be sixteen the princess knicked her finger on a spinning wheel, then she and everyone else would fall asleep. I know! Go figure!

            By now our captain has decided he’d better show willing and gives us the order to charge Maleficent, but lucky for us the looker disappears in a cloud of smoke.

            Then everyone gets to running about, and as much use as paper hats in a thunder storm. If this wasn’t bad enough the king, who until now been standing about like he was posing for a royal portrait has this idea. I tell ya, it’s a bad as the one the third old biddy came up with. He decrees, right there and then, without asking any advisors or running a focus group on the subject that every spinning wheel in the kingdom is to be collected up for the duration. I know, I know! Why didn’t he and his wife just resolve to educate the kid not to go near the dam’ things? 

These royals always putting it on the backs of us!

            And here’s the things. Every spinning wheel in the kingdom? Who do you think has to collect them?….You got it! Us poor dog-faced grunts. I mean you can imagine, all the lumps we got! The riots!  Those old grannies can be pretty mean where they jab you with their sticks. And of course, there’s always the farmer’s wife who is the village log-splitting champion! As for the guilds of weavers, spinners, and the whole clothing industry, we left that up to The Chamberlin’s Office, by then we were too busy patrolling for smugglers of clothing and yeh, you got it spinning wheels!….. Nah, we sure as hell didn’t get them all. What with the kick-backs and the girls who sweet-talk you into them keeping theirs…well pay and conditions weren’t exactly top-range in our kingdom, so you gotta get it when opportunities arise. 

            There we are, us tramping up hill and down dale, in all weathers, and what else does the king do. Get this? He places the daughter in the care of those three old biddies! No kidding! Like his poor wife has only just got a baby and suddenly- poof gone! Needless to say, there were no more kids on the way out of that royal boudoir!

            Now, this is where it really gets interesting. This part is on the hush-hush. You direct me to the nearest noisy tavern nearbyes where two old sweats can have a decent tankard, and you all truly gonna hear something!

 (End of Part I)…. to be continued.

Promote Yourself Monday- March 26, 2018

Here we are folks…now here’s something to think on

Go Dog Go Café

Picture1

Welcome to Promote Yourself Monday.  All Go Dog Go Cafe readers, guest writers, and baristas are invited to post one link to one specific post (750 words or less please!) from your blog into the comments section below.  Be sure to pick your best recent post*, because we will be choosing a Weekly Barista Favorite to be published in full on the Go Dog Go Cafe with a link back to your blog.

If you post a link, be sure to read some of the other great writing people have linked to.

*By posting below, the Baristas of the Go Dog Go Café assume permission to publish your piece on the Go Dog Go Café,  if it is chosen the Weekly Barista Favorite.  All authors will be properly cited and we will publish a link back to your blog.

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Standing

One of Sue’s trade-marks is the captivating melding of words and images. Enjoy this folks.

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

clayton 047I was beneath the treetops when the rain came,

Sheltered by the whisper of the beeches

And great oaks,

Leaves unfurling,

Copper and green

In the springtime.

clayton 026I was by the water when the light flared,

Silvering the surface as it rippled.

Rhythmic waves,

Eternal ebb and flow,

Mirroring the heavens

On the shoreline.

clayton 054I was in the sunlight when the wind blew,

Whipping through my hair and in the heather.

Holding me,

Ephemeral embrace

In my wandering

On the hillside.

revelation 3 252I was above the sunset when the tears came.

Higher than the seagulls’ plaintive calling,

Not lonely,

In solitude and grace

My heart flew with you

To your horizon.

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An Interlude on Stage

Sometimes I indulge in a Shakespeare play session in my DVD collection, and there are effects on my writing which insist on being displayed….

*********************************************************************************

Stage directions:

A group of folk are sitting, forlorn.

Enter:

The Commentator:

 

Speaks:                Good-day to you my fellow Wordsmiths

Why these sombre faces?

What halts or confounds your pens?

Have you fallen out to dispute of

Those five particular sisters

Calliope of the wondrous images

Euterpe entrancing with the lyrical dance

Thalia ever humorous and irreverent

Erato sweet purveyor of heart’s feelings

Polyhymnia, solemn in her honoring of the divine

 

Spokesperson:                    Well for you friend

That you should still be light of heart

Feel all is worth the business

For us, we see no sign of reward

No one beckons us

And heartily cries

‘Come! We would read your words!’

We sit in small dark corners

And none notice, or care

For our efforts.

 

Commentator:                    My brothers and sisters in authorship

This grieves me greatly

To witness you, victims to the Sly Mischief Maker

Comparison,

The ever-willing herald of The Drudge, Doubt.

This pair delight in stifling any bloom

Would grind the first shoots down

Ere they peer hopeful through the soil.

They are their carping squadrons of dullards

Who would have everyone just as slothful.

 

Spokesperson:                    Were you an alchemist of literature,

Were you able to turn your words deftly

And display them as nuggets of good news

Then we would cry ‘Hail Our Captain!

‘Lead and we shall follow’

(group nod and murmur)

But friend you are companion to Delusion

For many have travelled by our sorry group

And assailed us with words of good cheer,

Then been on their merry way,

While we sit and watch the words

As leaves, blown this way and that, and lost.

 

Commentator:                    Friends! Friends! You think I the hapless simpleton?

Then more fool me for brining this false mask to you.

For I am as battered and bruised as any of you.

The silence and the emptiness of no response

This I have passed in many a dreary day.

The careless rejection back so fast as to best Mercury

Has been a common visitor to my desk.

Bearing witness to folk who by deft means and insincere crafting

Have found easy fame and wealth,

A regular event so bothersome and mocking

I at times would have plucked out my eyes

And cried ‘No more! No more. Let me blunder away!’

 

Yet, the soft and steady the precious call continues,

Awakes within my forlorn breast the urge.

Once more do I walk with unsteady tread

To sit, and with trembling pen or battered device

Willing to answer the far off persisting, yet sweet songs

Which are the very life-milk to inspiration.

From what distant shore or forgotten manse

These hymns of summoning arise I cannot say.

And yet must follow with increasing pace

Made light by the sudden dance in my heart,

As once more the words begin to leave my head

To find form and juncture upon paper or screen.

 

Thus, Friends I do not give you any bright promises.

I would not insult you with happy quips about success

No, I do call you to a more daunting task

To bid you to arise from these sloughs in which you lie.

To stagger once more unto the field

Answering to the barely heard music.

Readying to forge on across unhelpful lands

Giving flight to the words which sit restless

Ever eager to spring forth through the despondency.

 

For you dear Friends. You the many small candles,

Would light dark places with your myriad words

Could raise a spirit or two with your images and messages

Might bring forth another to take up the sane road.

And would that not be worth more than easy coin

Come by shallow capering and tawdry lines overused?

Your acts and your endeavours though mayhap seeming small

Are as valuable as any roaring efforts of Titans

When truth be revealed, when all bluster is gone

The victories were won by the small individuals

Who in serried ranks forced the issue.

 

Now, guided by those ephemeral strains you know well,

Reach for your ever-present flints

Strike upon the stones of resolution,

Light those blessed candles, raise them higher.

Stride out once more, not seeking reward,

But to bring form unto thought and depth to your dreams.

For you are as valuable as any who claims the prize.

For you are of the very lifeblood which is Humanity’s Hope.

You are creators, you are bringers of songs and tales

You fill up the world with wonders and colours.

You have been chosen. You have been summoned.

And I will ever be glad of your company.

Be that in rags and in places where the Great do not go.

And I would be proud of your efforts, though they trample mine.

For you, each and every one- The Writers. The Artists.

Badges which none can tear from your jackets and coats.

 

Ah, but I have spoken far too long, have been a distraction!

Away with you now to your favour’d places, steel your resolve.

For you have a World to Enrich and thus save.

Go you warriors.

Heedless of rewards.

The Muses are beckoning you.

And when you stand upon your summit

You will look down into the vale

Being able to say, with determination

‘I created! I did achieve!’

 

 

Commentator exits….

 

 

The ending dear reader is in your hands.

                                           Good fortune to you.

                                           Never, ever give up with your writing.         

Just a Smidge

Average Body Weight 60,000 grms

Average zince 2 gms

Percentage of zinc = 0.00333 per body (one three-thousandth).

Yeh, that’s an estimate of how much zinc your body needs, scientifically the figures might be slightly off, but you get the idea……Not a great amount, but it’s vital, otherwise, things go wrong. Also, too much and things go wrong. You need a smidge…a very, very, very small smidge, but you need it.Shocked-face

Bit like something you add to a meal, if it’s not there, it’s bland maybe, if you put too much it…..Hello waste bin…..

So prithee dear blogger, you ask…..You do not normally post up tips on health or cooking. What the frib goes on here??      200px-Advokat,_Engelsk_advokatdräkt,_Nordisk_familjebok

Bear with me here, hear me out.

trilby

 

A scene at the ‘desk’ (allegorical) of a writer……

 

Me

 

“Oh what is the point of it all?”

 

You know how it goes don’t you? Consider the following:

Sitting there reading someone else’s erudite or inspiring or funny or informative post and even worse when they combine them some or all together, and you wonder….Oh what have I got to offer? I’m like ….blaahh-city!fed_up_woman-620x412

A part way through your book or short story and you start to slow down or notice on a re-read that the continuity is all skewed OR the main character is as fascinating as a small piece of cardboard, in fact you reckon the cardboard is more interesting. You are there thinking ‘why am I bothering, I just don’t have it! I am just less than the dust beneath the chariot wheels of other writers….Oh (you say once more) WOE (or any other word you care to use).

OR you get up OR sit down and think ‘Aww. Why bother! There was no great response to my last effort and I followed all the marketing tips…Let’s face it, I’m a nothing-writer. Who cares! (At this point you may well stick your tongue out at the latest best seller by someone you normally like, but today…..Hufffffffff!!! And foreswear never to read a book again because they only remind you or your own let-downs. You’ll buy boxed DVD sets series 1-15 of something and binge watch)

 

It happens folks. Doesn’t it?shoulder-shrug

And we all wonder just what can be done about it. Because we do so love to write, we do so want to be read. We have something to offer.Young woman, finger on lips, looking confused surprised

The Arrogance of such a thought…..Really?

This is where in comes the smidge. The very, very small pinch of Arrogance. That little piece of flint which sets off the spark for the writer to try one more time, and the time after that, and after that and just never give up.

“Because I can do as well as others! Because I have something to offer.”

Let me just elaborate on this notion and bear in mind this is to illustrate just where the smidge comes in.

I write fantasy, I read fantasy.

Joe Abercrombie is gritty, this is the world big warts and all. His continuity is superb, a minor character is one book is central to another, the background from one book to another align. Haven’t they got their own swear words in this world Joe? I mean like what’s with this old goat having everything as part of his cunning plan, like not new & squaresville man. Where’s the chaos? Where’s the variety in the language. Uhh I’m gonna give that a shot in my own world….

Brandon Sanderson creates whole worlds with their own science in the Mistborn, and an encyclopaedia of characters who flit in and out, have their own vital part in the plot, no one is wasted. Yeh that was fine Brandon. But Stormlight and the Way of Kings, I’m there saying ‘Get on with the plot, the guy is down a big hole and trying to inspire a bunch of other guys, I get it….What about the pacing!..I can wrap up a tale quicker than that..(note to self- when writing vol II of my trilogy), don’t do a Way of Kings on the readers.

“Frib!”(shameless plug) You say, “That sounds like sour grapes and suchwhich.” I reply…..No, that is the smidge speaking, it is that which drives me on. The danger would be to lambast everything Abercrombie and Sanderson due just because I targeted on a few little facets which jarred with my style. I reckon I can write without those and that what’s what I am going to do…. Patchwork                                                                     see you can*

So say to yourself…..

I…. believe…..I can write……And no one shall stop me. What do they know?

And there you have the explanation dear readers/writers, the smidge is enough, just enough to get the words flowing. Any more and you will be sour, bitter and getting nowhere apart from joining the sad breed who write 1 & 2 star reviews on Amazon just because.

There is one other smidge you should add to Arrogance and that is the wry smile. Do not be angry, be at one with the belief, no writer is 100% perfect you can offer your own take and you are going to show the world. Never mind who says what. You…. ARE…..

Yes..You, YOU ARE A WRITER and let no one take this away from you. You have your own style, your own drive, your own images.

Repeat to yourself, without any doubt…

I AM

I WILL WRITE.

BECAUSE I CHOOSE TO.

Just that smidge folks.

Then get to work.

Good luck, and fortune to you all. You are worth it

*(Sorry about the other shameless plug, it was only to prove a point…honest…a snip at Amazon Kindle for not very much)

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