Mindy Carlson

It’s not a huge secret that I’ve been stuck lately, and this blog post will be extremely personal. There’s a ridiculous amount of secrecy about what going on “behind the curtain.” No one wants to admit when times are tough.

We all go through ups and downs in our writing. It doesn’t do our industry favors to pretend we’re 100% fine 100% of the time. We’re 50% fine 50% of the time. And the other 50%? Well, that’s a bag of cats.

I’m someone who can usually blast out 1200 words without breaking a sweat. Getting 6 good pages (Stephen King’s goal for his writing days) wasn’t too difficult.

But right now, getting even 100 words on the page feels like a victory. And not every day is victorious.

So what happened to that 1200 words a day? I wrote a manuscript that “wasn’t good.” It was fine, honestly, but it died on sub. And then I wrote another manuscript that died on sub. Then I wrote another manuscript that was just for fun. I liked it, but no one else did.

Those were some major hits to my self-confidence.

Then there were the ton of administrative tasks that fell into my lap and needed to get done. (More on that in a future post.) But all those Other Very Important Things were easy to get lost in. I was achieving. I was successful. I was getting kudos.

But in truth, I wasn’t writing because I was afraid of failing.

You can’t fail if you don’t try, right? My brain had shut down. I had stories circling in my head, like airplanes waiting for the air traffic controller (ATC) to give them clearance to land, but the ATC had gone on a strike.

And the catch is, that I didn’t know I was scared. I was simply busy. So much to do! Other deadlines! Nurturing myself! There’s simply no time to write.

(Frankly, nurturing myself is probably the only reason I didn’t have a nervous breakdown, so huzzah for me.)

I tried to get my feet under me by writing short stories, which actually worked out.

The seriously fantastic short story I published (AITA in Myopic Duplicity) was a lifeline. As were the Noir at the Bars I performed this story at. The instant positive feedback and invitations to perform at future Noirs was exactly what I needed.

It was after that I found my words were coming more easily.

But they weren’t flowing yet. And I’m still not back to 1200-word sessions.

I’m still scared. I love this story I’m working on. I want to tell it as I see it playing out in my head. This is a dangerous mentality/dream/intention. Getting it “perfect” is what editing is for. It’s why get feedback from our agents and beta readers.

But I can’t edit or get feedback if the story never makes it out of my head. I can’t fail either.

Writing a novel is one of the braver things a person can do. You’re committing your inner thoughts and world view to paper. There’s nowhere to hide. You’re exposed and vulnerable. You’re saying this is me. You’re a child holding up a drawing to your parents saying, “Please like me.”

It’s terrifying.

Yes, authors have to be brave.

So, I’m choosing to be brave. I’m choosing to get this wonderfully dark and creepy story out of my mind and onto the page. Even if I can only write it 10 words at a time right now.