Finding home, finding love – writing romance, making clothes, growing food, and growing up

Adventures in living an authentic creative life


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Writer’s block mini-workshop- free for 24 hours only!

Balnk page in Microsft Word to demonstrate writer's block at autumnmacarthur.com

My fear of the blank page stopped me writing for years. The need for perfection in first draft paralysed me, because it’s so darned impossible!

I wanted to write as long as I can remember. I used to cut up paper to make little stapled books to write and illustrate as a kid. In my teens, I started writing an epic fantasy novel. In my twenties and thirties, I started writing romances.  The problem was, I never went beyond starting. I permanently stuck on chapter one, locked in a losing battle to get that first line and that first page and that first chapter just right before I went any further.

What didn’t help was early teaching from my family that talented people got it right first time, and not getting it right first time was a sure sign on lack of talent, so give up now. That little matter of constant practice and work and learning their craft and all the failed attempts nobody saw, that doesn’t make any difference. Anybody who’s worth a rat’s dropping of doing anything gets it right first go.

Now my response is “Yeah, sure they do!”

Unfortunately, that early learning got reinforced in the creative writing classes I took at university. Our lovely teacher put a lot of emphasis on flash fiction. She encouraged us to write, and write a lot, but editing was never mentioned once in the two year course. All the aborted beginnings of stories in my writing portfolio (we had to hand in every single creative word we wrote during the semester- emphasis on quantity not quality) were never commented on.

After that, every time I had a story idea and started to write, I’d get to the end of chapter one,  read it back, and give up until the next story idea struck, hoping that would magically be better.

*shakes head at poor misguided younger me, and considers weeping over all the lost years of writing time*

It took until I was the ridiculous age of 48 to actually finish a first draft, through doing  a Jan No (like Nanowrimo, but January), where the need to keep getting words down and keep moving forward stopped me going back to despair over my first pages and stop writing any further when I couldn’t get them right straight off.

Okay, that first completed draft was almost all rubbish. I’d read an insane number of stories, but  I had no idea how to structure a story. I had no idea about character arc. The plot was episodic and nonsensical. But I did it. I wrote The End. I had something I could work with and edit.

All needing to “get it right” creates is fear, and fear creates resistance, and resistance creates writer’s block.

I’ve managed to get past the fear of the blank page more than a few times now, but I always have that resistance to starting a new story. While it’s in my mind, it’s still perfect. As soon as I start to write, the perfection evaporates.  I need to choose, holding on to the perfect story no-one else but me can ever know, or writing it down though, so even though it will inevitably be flawed, it can be shared.

Back then, I used to write, but abandon the story after one page or one chapter because it wasn’t “good enough” in first draft. Now, I have more sophisticated tools at my disposal, usually over-preparation before I feel ready to start writing. I love my charts and my plans and my fill-in-the-box forms! And research, the ideal procrastination method. My next story will be a historical. I have pages and pages of things I want to research, make sure I get right, thousands of words of notes on the characters and their back stories and their conflicts. But in the end, I just need to start writing.

So I’m glad today to see this fun and free mini-workshop available from Holly Lisle, the Five Minute Fix – Cure for the Blinking Cursor, for today only. It’s a taster excercise for a new updated paid-for course she’s offering from tomorrow, How to Think Sideways Ultra, offering writers tools for kick starting creativity and getting the first draft done.

I’ve learned from Holly for a while.  Her online workshops and tutorials were the first how-to-write-fiction stuff I discovered when I decided to get serious about writing and finally do something about my abandoned dream. I’m slowly working her way through her original How to Think Sideways course. The volume of material in that course is tremendous. Just the course downloads are 1.3 GB, so I feel like I’ve had way better value for money than a lot of other online writing courses I’ve done.  Holly is a gifted teacher, someone who loves teaching and supporting other writers. She shows how she does it, but isn’t prescriptive. And she does write, not just teach!

Here’s the blurb for the writer’s block exercise-

If you’ve ever sat staring at the blinking cursor, trying to find the right, the perfect, the one and only way to start your story (or your chapter, or your day’s writing), trying to will words onto the page…

…Discover the PERMANENT five-minute fix for this problem—the technique Holly uses to get words quickly on days when SHE’S having a hard time getting started.

Five minute fix. Lose the agony.

So simple!

Okay, now I have to go do it myself instead of blogging as a way to procrastinate!

(Full disclosure- the links to the mini-workshop are affiliate links- so if you decide to sign up for the full course after clicking through, I’ll earn a fee. But I only recommend things I use myself. I paid full price for the older version HTTS  workshop, and I believe it’s a hugely useful training for writers.)


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Resistance, fear of criticism, and hitting the wall

Ancient stone wall and green wooden door in Totnes, Devon

So this is my first official week of writing full time, and  today, I’m struggling. I’ve hit a wall.

It felt so liberating giving myself this freedom from a “normal job”. Now though my nagging inner parent is busy telling me I should look for another job and I should be working harder. That nagging voice is right on one thing. I need to work harder. I’m can only support us out of savings for a year so by the end of that year I need to have some income in place. To get some income, I need to submit stories to publishers, or self-publish.

And that’s the problem.

The more I tell myself I need to work harder, the less I write. I’m terrified of actually publishing my writing. Opening myself up to be seen and to be criticized. Some people are brutal with reviews. I know I need to be tough and believe in myself and just get stuff out there, but part of me feels like it will wither and die when I get bad reviews.

Of course, inevitably, I will. It’s not necessarily a judgement on the writing. All books get bad reviews eventually, unless no-one reads then except the writer’s friends and family who  have to say nice things or else!

So I’m keeping myself safe. I’m doing a neat form of self-sabotage, where it looks like I’m doing the work but in fact I jump from project to project to project and never finish anything so I never have to put anything out there either. Instead of completing a short 10 k novella to self-publish fast, like I planned, I’ve started work on a big 85 k story that will take two months just to first draft, let alone get ready to publish.

I seriously need to work on my fear and my resistance. I know it won’t get easier. I know I have to break through this wall.

But right now, I just don’t know how.  Today just disappeared. I opened the novella, not the single title, and I struggled to dredge up 1000 crappy words of story. I’m nearly midnight and I’m exhausted. It feels like the fear and resistance is winning.

But maybe it won’t win tomorrow. I’m not stopping. I’m not giving in to this stupid crazy thing that every writer feels, and every published writer needs to overcome.

Actually, I won today. Every word of those 1027 story words  I wrote was a little win, a tiny triumph.

How many wins did you make today?


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If your dreams don’t scare you…

If your dreams don't scare you they aren't big enough
Image by Fit Fab Cities via Victoria Blisse

If your dreams don’t scare you, they’re not big enough.

That’s what I need to hear today.

I’m scared.

When I gently suggested to my Muse in my Morning Pages that maybe it was time to up the daily story word count target from 2000 words to 3000 words, she ran and hid and won’t come out.  That idea frightened her silly. Hopefully I can coax her out so we at least get the 2000 today.

But big dreams are scary.

Getting published and putting my writing out there is scary. Opening myself up to being judged is scary. Getting rejected again is scary. Getting bad reviews is scary. Letting people open a door into my mind and see what’s inside is scary.

The fear is the price I have to pay if I want to write full time.

I need to gently push myself. I need to trust that I’ll be supported. I’m doing what I feel guided to do, so the support will be there.

I need to be scared by those terrifyingly big dreams. If I’m not scared, I’m settling for less than I could achieve.

Then I need to do the work.


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On Taking the Risk of Revealing Myself

Cat asleep in a household shrine

It takes guts to let other people see your deepest fears, to know the things you love, and realize who you really are. Not everything found in the heart is pretty, but inspiration is not always found in perfection. Sometimes it is the broken pieces that people will connect with the most.
- Musings by Jennifer Blair, Artful Blogging Autumn 2012

This is something I’m struggling with, yet again.

I leave the Day Job very soon. I’m excited about that. I’m also terrified, and looking for safety nets. I don’t want to think about having to financially depend on what I can earn from my writing.

There are safety nets, of course. I have money in the bank. I applied for a side job, an easy no-brainer Saturday job that would let me write while at work.  I can reapply for my old job if I need to, the person I’ve been job sharing with will be leaving in a year or so.  There’s no guarantee I’ll get it, but I’d have a good chance. I use that thought to comfort and ease my fear, my anxiety about truly being a full time writer.

I’m not sure having that safety net is a good thing though. It might just make it too safe. I might coast, thinking I have a year off to play at writing, rather than that I have just one year or so to make or break as a writer so I need to work bloody hard. I might feel so safe and complacent that I’ll end up right back where I am now in eighteen months. So there’s a little voice in my head telling me I’m just wasting my time and my money. All I will have gained is the sure knowledge I couldn’t do it.

It feels like I’m setting myself up for failure, applying for that Saturday job, thinking I can get the twenty hours a week at the Day Job back. Of course, it’s also a way of reassuring the inner critical parent and external real world parents like the mother-in-law.  It’s a good story to reassure anxious onlookers, but the reality is that I do have to make a go of this. I just have to. I’m not letting this dream go.

I kinda hope I don’t get that side job. I don’t need safety nets. I just need to write. I am my own side job and my own safety net.

I need to write, and ship (to use a Steve Jobs-ism), not look for safety nets. Real artists ship. Dilettantes can create, but they never ship. Or they ship infrequently, half heartedly, they ship with the preconditions for failure built in like shipping incomplete, rushed, less-than-their-best work.

Oh my, do I know that one. I am the queen of submitting waaaaay too soon.

Or even more so, of jumping from idea to idea to idea. The lure of new stories, far better than the old story. The dropping one project before it’s completed because the next idea is so exciting, repeated repeated repeated. It’s all resistance, a way of avoiding truly finishing a piece of writing and putting it out there, out to be seen and judged.

My exciting new idea this time is a historical. I’m massively enthusiastic about it. It will be a huge, ambitious book, needing loads of research to get right. I am a little concerned that the amount of research needed is a strategy to avoid actually writing a story.

Because if I write, I have to ship; and if I ship, I have to put it out  there to be seen; and if it’s seen, everyone will also see how bad I write ; and if everyone sees how bad I write I’ll have no credibility and get laughed at and get one star reviews and I’ll never sell a book again and I’ll have to go back to working as a nurse or I’ll have to live on weeds because we won’t be able to afford anything else and my mother-in-law will say I told you so and I’ll be too embarrassed to ever go on a writing forum again and then I’ll die.

The list seems fairly comprehensive. That’s what my mind truly thinks will happen if I actually self-publish. No wonder I’m never able to properly finish anything!

I need to be okay with uncertainty, not knowing. I need to be willing to risk that self-disclosure, to let myself be seen. I need to be zen, like my cats, being what I am, untroubled by questions. What I am is a writer. Like the quote says, I’m imperfect. Not pretty, complete with broken pieces, but maybe that’s something readers will connect with.

It’s time to take that risk.


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One simple way to be happier and more productive

Paraglider over the ocean at Mona Vale in Sydney's Northern beaches

In Sydney a couple of weeks ago, we went up to the headland to watch the paragliders.  Awesome. The thing that amazes me is how they take off. They let the wind fill their parachute, then literally step off the headland into the air. Terrifying yet exhilarating.

That’s just watching them. I can’t imagine how it feels to actually do it, to step off into nothing and have that trust and confidence that the air will hold you up.

Trust has been an issue for me this week. I’m quitting the Day Job in just nine weeks. In one way the idea is exhilarating. finally time for myself, time to write, time to sew, time to develop some ideas I’ve had for a while about home based ways of creating income. Terrifying, because we won’t have any household income unless I can get books published and sold, get those ideas up and running.

That fear made me start trying to push myself. Despite being jetlagged, and the added exhaustion from long busy days at the Day Job, I lectured myself about the need to do more. I have all these goals, and I needed do more more more if I was to achieve them. I was lazy, I needed to work harder or I’d fail, I told myself.

Problem is, that sort of fear based badgering never works. Not for me, and I doubt it does for anybody.

All it did was add to my stress and anxiety, made me less able to do anything productive, and took the joy out of anticipating Freedom Day, the day I set myself free to work at what I want to work at, not what my bosses throw at me.

When that day comes of course, I’ll end up working far harder than I ever did at the regular job. I was self-employed once before, for two lovely years after the seventh miscarriage, when I just couldn’t face looking after other people any more and sold books on the internet instead. I worked far longer hours, probably sixty hours most weeks, making less than the minimum wage, but I didn’t care. I did it more joyfully, because I was choosing what I did, and I loved the work. Laziness isn’t my problem.

On Wednesday I realised I needed a different approach, and something wonderful happened.

Instead of constantly telling myself I needed to do more, instead of making lists of what I should be doing, I took time in my Morning Pages to list what I did towards my goals the day before. Despite the crappy stress of the hamster wheel Day Job, despite the long commute, despite the exhaustion and the head cold, what baby steps had I made that day? I didn’t have to do anything, but what I did do would be recognised and acknowledged and celebrated.

Amazingly, not only did I find I’d done more than I thought, that simple act of appreciation of my tiny achievements somehow freed me to do even more over the past few days. The fear of failing lifted, and in its place came a sense of lightness,  fun and a burst of creative thinking. I felt better, and I was doing better.

I wrote snippets of story on the commute, far better than what I’d written before. I had breakthroughs with plot and character niggles, things I knew weren’t right in the first draft. I had completely new ideas for the clothing business I plan to start, and began thinking bigger too. The fear I wasn’t doing enough shrank my world, felt heavy and oppressive, but my little bullet point lists of what I achieved the day before moved me into expansiveness and a huge sense of possibility.

Appreciation of myself, not nagging myself.

I think I now understand more of how the idea of goallessness works. It’s not that there’s really no goals at all, it’s that the goals are approached in a different way. There’s a kind of zen in it. Things get done effortlessly, without pushing.

I hope I can keep going like this. It’s very freeing and light. My muse likes it. She does NOT respond well to being nagged and badgered and told what she “should” be doing. She does respond to freedom, to bein g told she doesn’t need to do anything, but being recognised and rewarded when she does.

The easy simple act of writing down what I’ve done the day before, rather than setting goals and to-do lists for the day ahead like I usually do, seems to have created a huge shift.

It’s working for me. It might work for you too I’d be very interested to hear what happens if you try it!


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If you are feeling stuck and miserable as an artist or writer or in any creative work

Keri Smith's poster- How to Feel Miserable as an Artist
Image created by Keri Smith

I’ve been away from the blog, away from my own creative self too long. Flailing around, not knowing what to do next, overwhelmed by all the options, all the unfinished stories, and stressed mindless by the Day Job.

I’m just back from two weeks in Australia, visiting family (not easy, as my aging parents have retreated into their own little world where visits feel like intrusions, but satisfying the need in me to stay connected), camping out at a lovely beachside site, and recharging my spirit. I don’t want to lose that now I’m back in the Real World.

I’m not sure now what my real world is. The Day Job ends in ten weeks. For that ten weeks, my life still revolves around it’s demands, but after that, I’m free. Free to create, free to set my own agenda, free to do what I want.

Totally, terrifyingly free.

I’ve never given myself that sort of freedom before, and the prospect of it is both exhilarating and scaring me spitless. Like a mountain climb, like a skydive, like the scariest ride at the adventure park. I’m trying to focus on the positives of it, all the options not having a job open up for me, all that glorious time to create, but it’s important I acknowledge the fear too.

The fear of failing. So many ways to fail. The fear of not having the excuse of the Day Job any more, that time and mind suck, yet still failing to create. The fear of putting my stuff out there and it being ridiculed, or maybe worse, simply ignored. The fear of making this big bold statement, I am an artist, I am a writer, and not doing it. The fear of not making any money, of having to go back to being sensible and having a “Real Job”.

Because I won’t really be free. I have enough money to play with to live frugally for about six months before I start getting twitched about finances. And I’m not creating at all now. Not at all. I do my Morning pages daily, I sew something now and then, I play with ideas, I’ve made a few new recipes, but I’m not doing the work I want to be doing.

I’m feeling paralysed by options. Too many ideas. Too much I want to be doing. I can’t decide what to do. I want to write wild, not safe. But safety lures me. I feel unsafe. I dreamed last night that my husband and I were on a plane on fire. We knew the plane was on fire, but we just sat there, chatting to other people. Meanwhile, my Muse sped off in a hotted up ute with flames spewing from the tail, the flames that started the fire.

No idea what that means, just that it’s relevant.

I found the wise and fabulous Keri Smith’s blog today. How to Feel Miserable as an Artist is from her Artist’s Survival Kit. There are other wonderful things there! I liked the Create Your Own Award card, and especially the Permission to Make Mistakes card. Take a look.

My problem, the thing that’s paralysing me and stopping me from creating, is my expectations. All those “shoulds” of mine. I should be writing. Not only should I be writing, I should be writing 10,000 words a week. Okay, I’m not quite crazy enough to expect that of myself now, that’s for when I quit the Day Job, and  should be totally achievable (though that “should” in there is worrying).  I should be blogging more, and doing social media. I should be sewing, working on prototypes for the line of lagenlook clothing I want to sell someday. And not only should I be doing it, I should be doing it perfectly. I should have an ebook ready to release before I finish the Day Job. I should start making money straight away. I should do it all by myself and right first time.

No wonder I feel stuck, unable to choose what to work on, like I just need to sit in a corner and rock and chant quietly to myself!

Here’s Keri’s Permission to Make Mistakes card. I’m printing it out and filling it in now. If you’re feeling stuck and overwhelmed in your creative life, maybe you could give yourself permission to make mistakes too?

Permission to Make Mistakes card, from Keri Smith's Artist's Survival Kit.


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Being like our characters- finding courage to go for our dreams


Photo by oktavianim

So, I quit the Day Job.

I gave them four months notice, so I’m still acting professionally and not leaving anyone in the merde. I’ll save as much as I can in that time for an extra financial cushion. I have a story all planned out, ready to start writing, a novella I want to get written and published fast in the hope of having a trickle of money coming in before I leave.

Now of course the fear kicks in, the fear I won’t be able to write it as well as I envision the story. And of course, I won’t.  Nowhere near it in first draft, but it will get closer to the story I see with each successive draft, until I know it’s close enough and ready to send out to the world.

I still feel the terror though. Of not being good enough. Of being found out to be a fraud, I write so much about writing, yet I can’t write. Of truly finishing something and putting it out there to be judged and criticised.  Of failing at this grand big plan to have it all, damaging one dream (the house in Australia, the reson for my savings) for the sake of another (being a full-time writer).

That’s the risk I take. I did a process of thinking what my “brand” will be as a writer. Basically, what my stories will be about. What the consistent themes are readers can expect from my books. This wasn’t actually for me as Autumn, this was for another pseudonym I’ll be using for my hotter stories. It’s all about my heroines growing their confidence. Owning their power. Overcoming the fears and limitations that have run their lives.

I realise, these are the themes of ALL my stories, possibly all good stories by any writer. In the erotica written under the pseudonym, it will be an extraordinary sexual encounter that catalyses her change. In my stories as Autumn, it will be the demands of the developing relationship. To have the relationship, she needs to change what holds her back.

Yet all these things are what I need to do too. I’m still letting fear and limitation run my life.

I don’t think I’ll be having any unusual sexual experiences, or a new relationship. But I still need to change. I need to find that strength in myself. I need to find the courage to overcome my fears. I need to stop giving away my power, and use it like a battle axe to slash through the wall of limitations I’ve surrounded myself with.

Making chance is big and scary and risky. Last week I had the high of making the decision and acting on it. This week, I have the crash, the dealing with the consequences.

I still know I’ve made the right decision. I need to take this chance now. Playing it safe in the Day Job was keeping me small, giving me excuses to not be all I could be. It’s time to go for it, but pay the price. The price is needing to face this fear. Needing to face the insecurity. Needing to face that it might all go wrong, spectacularly crash-and-burn wrong or quiet whimpering wrong.

Also, needing to face that it might all go right. Fear of success is just as big an issue as fear of failure. The only truly safe thing is to never try. Or to say I’m trying, but procrastinate. Waste time. Write about writing instead of actually writing. Sub stuff far too early as a safety mechanism.

It’s time to stop all that. Time to stop playing it safe. Time to take the risk and do the work. Time to stop being a wannabe and a couldabeen. I’ve “tried” to work at my writing. But Yoda was right. there is no try. Only do, or do not.  It’s time to do. The fear will always be there. It never goes away, according to my multi-publisher author friends.

But we can still do it anyway. No lucky charms needed. Just enough courage to get started and keep going.


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The power of negative thinking- no more excuses!

Photo by Bethany L King

Another lesson for writing from weight loss - no more excuses

I want to lose weight more than I want to eat that. My paraphrase of Kate Moss’s saying- “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.”

When I was fat, her saying made no sense. I thought it was another call to anorexia. The truth was, I wanted to eat garlic bread and chocolate and drink wine more than I wanted to be slimmer. That’s a valid choice, I believe. Skinny does not necessarily mean healthier. Far from it.

Only when  a health scare shocked me into realising I wanted to lose weight (and my goal wasn’t to be slim, just to be kind of medium large instead of extra extra large, and I’m still far from skinny because I don’t have that tiny frame) did it make sense to me.

I had to choose- what did I want more- to eat and drink whatever I wanted, or get healthier? Because the only way to do it is to keep deciding, every time there’s a choice about what to eat or drink and I’m tempted by the fattening, less healthy option, that I want to be slim more than I want to have that piece of garlic bread, that chocolate, or that glass of wine. I want to lose weight more than I want to eat that.


 How it applies to writing- I want to write more than I want to …

I can use the same thing with time management too, to help me write. When I set aside time to write then find myself frittering it way in things that aren’t writing. When I don’t seem able to make time to write at all. That’s when I need to look at what I’m doing and decide. What do I want to do more? Browse ebay, or write? Read blogs, or write? Even what do I want to do more, write a blog post or write story?

I’m writing this now in my morning pages, so that makes it okay! Almost.

But you see what I’m saying.

Some days we really can’t write. There’s just too much to do that has to be done. There are so many things in our lives, genuine, big, important things like jobs and families and other responsibilities that make it hard to write. Things we have less choice about or we feel we can’t choose not to do.

We can’t beat ourselves up about those days, though if we have too many days like that we can look at whether we do have other choices with some of those things. That’s how I ended up deciding to work part time instead of full time.

Other days, though, we could write, if we chose to. What we’re doing isn’t big or necessary or important. It doesn’t feed into any of our immediate goals.

We can mask it as a need to relax. True, we do need to relax, but spending the whole evening vegged out in front of the TV may be overdoing it! We can mask it as something that relates to a long term goal. For me, that’s spending hours looking at what houses are for sale in the area I want to move to eventually and daydreaming about what my life would be and how I’d change this house and do that in the garden. 


What do you REALLY want to do? You CAN change your goal!

All that stuff is good. It’s okay to do. But if I’m doing too much of it and it’s getting in the way of me achieving my immediate goal- to finish and submit the novella by September 1, for example- it’s time to ask what I want more. Do I really want to be doing this?

If we really don’t want to do the work towards the goal more than we want to do any of that other stuff, maybe we picked the wrong goal. Maybe we picked the goal we thought we should want rather than the goal we really want.

If you say you want to be a writer and your goal is to write a novel, but every time you sit down to write you do a blog post instead, maybe you really want to be a blogger or essayist rather than a novelist. That’s okay. We need to do what we love, not what we think we should do or someone else thinks we should do. There’s an easy answer.

Be honest about what we want most and change the goal.

That way, you can be more focused on what you really want. And it’s useful to be able to stop beating yourself up for not working on that novel! 


I want to do this- but I can’t! Sometimes what’s stopping us isn’t what we think it is.

Honesty is the key here. Because if you really and truly want your goal, but  still aren’t putting in the work, it’s time to ask why.

Write down all the reasons.

I can’t write my story because I don’t have time. I can’t write my story because the Day Job fried my brain. I can’t write my story because I have no private writing space and my husband keeps interrupting me.

I’m reading Barbara Sher’s Wishcraft. Thirty years old and still an awesome book; wise, funny, and helpful. You don’t even have to buy it, she’s put it up online for free.

She says-

The real problem is very deep and painful and complex, and it has nothing to do with boats Day Jobs or rowing available time or seasickness space to write. What it does have to do with is the negative feelings that come up every time you start thinking about going for your dreams.

If every time you sit down to write your novel you find yourself doing a blog post instead not because you love to blog and you’d rather blog than write story, but because writing story feels too hard and too frightening and you want to do it but something in you just freezes, this isn’t a wrong goal.

It’s self-sabotage.

The thought of going for what we want can paralyse us. It can bring out all sorts of painful feeling and inner conflicts. Sometimes we don’t realise that’s what’s really happening. We mask it with excuses good valid reasons for not doing it instead.

Could be that the real reason you’re not writing is that it’s too big or too scary or too challenging.

If that’s why you aren’t doing it, a different strategy is needed. Don’t give up on your dream, deal with what‘s stopping you.


Excuse busting- the power of negative thinking

Her technique for dealing with this is surprising. It probably contradicts everything we thought we knew about the right attitude for achieving our goals. It’s got nothing to do with making ourselves do it anyway or forcing ourselves to have a positive attitude.  

She calls it “The Power of Negative Thinking”.

First, we write down all the reasons why we can’t do what we want.

The reasons might look very practical and valid on the surface. But often they aren’t the real reason we aren’t doing what we want. We need to go deeper, just like we do with our characters to get at their motivations and inner conflicts. We need to explore the real feelings underneath the reasons.

It’s worth doing this, even if you’re reading this and thinking it really doesn’t apply to you.

Hint- if there’s any important goal in your life you just don’t seem able to get around to doing anything about, this process could help you!

As we dig deeper, we’ll discover the source of our resistance, and unlock the power tied up in that resistance. The power of negative thinking.

Barbara says-

Because you’ve dug down through all those heavy layers of “I can’t,” and struck a defiant gusher of “I don’t want to and I won’t.” Depression is an energy crisis, and negativity is energy—pure, ornery, high-octane energy. It’s just been so repressed and tabooed that we’ve forgotten something every 2-year-old knows: how good it is for us to throw a tantrum. We’re all such good little girls, such brave, stalwart little boys, such polite little children—and inside every one of us is an obnoxious, exuberant little brat, just squirming to be let out. I’ve got one. So do you. That brat is your baby, and you’d better love her, because you ignore her at your peril.

The operative principle is, “Get it off . . . and then get on with it.” You’ve got to let negative attitudes and feelings happen. Only then will you be ready for positive problem-solving, planning, and action.

She goes into lots of ways to do that here, in chapter five. It’s really worth reading. The whole book is!

Basically, we need to let our inner child throw that tantrum it’s longing to have. We need to let out all those whinges and moans and  complaints that “It’s not fair.” This is what’s really stopping us.

The only way that inner child can express itself right now is by sulking, refusing to do the work. It’s doing a good job of that.

Instead, let it throw it’s wobbler, then see what happens.

I’m going to try this.

If you try it too, please share how it worked for you!


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Fear of beginning a big scary story- or fear of subbing?


Photo by verityatthedisco

I’m feeling stuck- conflicted about what I should write what’s best for me to write.

A few days ago I did a post on starting a new story, and committing to finishing it. I need that so much! I am a serial starter. New story ideas come to me easily, I get excited, do a bit of planning, start the story, and give up after a few chapters. Or i finish first draft and never edit it. Or I get as far as editing a partial enough to submit, get a rejection, and again the story languishes, because I’m off with the next exciting new story.

If I took the same approach to my love life, I’d have gone through about forty-something boyfriends in the last ten years, instead of being happily looking forward to our tenth wedding anniversary in Paris next April!

I’m running through my list of unfinished stories since I started writing fiction again in January 2008.

It’s worrying.

I haven’t properly completed a single story. Ever.

By “completed” I mean not just first drafted but edited and rewritten and made as good as I possibly could.

I thought I had with one, the novella I wrote last December, but I was wrong. All I really did was tidy up and gently tweak the first draft, when it needed some serious cutting and rewriting in parts. I saw that straight away when I re-read it a few months later. So much that was wrong with it became obvious. It’s a wonder I got such a kind rejection! “Let a story sit as long as you can before re-reading it” is my favourite advice for self-editing. I was totally blind to all that needed editing when I’d only just finished first drafting it, on a deadline and needing to submit fast.

That one hasn’t been finished yet. I saw I could take it two ways, rewrite as a longer story and go broader and deeper, or cut it in half for an even shorter novella. I started the longer rewrite, but stopped after two chapters, enticed away by a new story idea.

My story files are a clutter. I’ve got four other first drafts through to “The End”. One of those, I’ve edited the partial for submission, got a nice rejection, and started a complete rewrite. I’ve got another three or four stories around a third to half-way first drafted. There are more that are just two or three chapters that were abandoned. I’ve got a lot of first chapters, written for contests or just because I had a new story idea, that I didn’t take any further. Then there’s the big folder full of story ideas I haven’t started yet, just jotted a page or two on, but I don’t make myself feel any guilt about that.

It’s all the unfinished stories that I’m guilty about.

I publicly committed to completing the next story I start. I have to get in the habit of finishing what I start, if I want my writing to ever be more than a hobby. So I’m developing the story now. The problem is, it’s going to be huge. far bigger, both in word count and complexity, than anything I’ve ever written before. My guess is this story will take around a year just to first draft. Probably as much again to edit. It does scare me. It scares me silly.

But in a comment on that previous post Mike perceptively suggested I may be using the big story as a way of hiding from another fear.

If you fear rejection, then embarking on a brand new, multi-year writing project might not be the best thing to pursue at this time. A shorter, more quickly completed story will force you to tackle that submission fear of yours sooner rather than later.

Then you can send out the short work while writing the longer one.

Initially, my reaction was “No, course not” but now I’m wondering if maybe he is right. Am I using the big story as a way to avoid more rejection?

Possibly.

It’s interesting that when I looked at the editing last thing I subbed, the rejected novella, I chose to go for the longer rewritten version and not the shorter easier fix. Part of that was because I wanted to enter it into a first chapter contest, and the longer story is a better fit for the publisher’s submission guidelines. (In the end, I missed that deadline anyway.) Now I’m also considering if I didn’t want to do the shorter version out of fear of needing to sub again so soon.

I can see how the 22k novella could be a different, much stronger story as the 10k version. Doing that wouldn’t stop me still rewriting it as the longer 50k version if I wanted to, because so much needed changing for that it would be a complete rewrite anyway. I’m thinking, while I slowly develop the very big 100 k story idea, which will need a lot of prewriting planning, maybe I should do the 10k  rewrite of the rejected novella.

It was so clear on re-reading that the story could have ended around 10k. That’s when the emotional issues
actually resolved. The other 10k was a sex scene and a lot around resolving the external block.

Yes, I had it totally back to front!

In romance, the characters really do have to resolve the external issues BEFORE the internal emotional ones. That’s because the main story question is always ”How do these two very different people overcome all the blocks in the way of them committing to a truly loving relationship?” not “How do they solve the external problem?”

I do want to write this story. I think it could be good.

Now I’m feeling torn. I know I’m scared to start the big story. I’m afraid it’s way beyond my ability to write. I want to do it anyway. I don’t want to run away from this.  I also have this contradictory desire to be writing shorter stuff and subbing. But I don’t want to use editing the novella as an excuse, a cop-out, an escape from taking on the big  scary project.

I’m going to have a go at doing both. I’ll do the development work on the fantasy story, in parallel to editing the novella.

Wish me luck!

And tell me, how do you juggle working on two different writing projects at once?


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Making my own prison – and breaking out of it

Breaking free
Photo by Matthew Wilkinson

Time to stop beating myself up for not writing enough.

I need to give myself permission to take it easy for a while, I think. This is my preparation time for really getting back into writing.  Not so much the physical preparation, like learning to touch type (I can do that now, almost!), or getting a proper writing space ready. More the deeper emotional preparation. dealing with the issues that have held me back.

So when I do drop those two days at work a week , when I finally have more time, I have no more crappy excuses not to write.

I started doing Holly Lisle’s “How to Think Sideways” course, as part of the preparation. The plan was, I’d follow the course to write the next story. I hadn’t realised the first month is all about getting out of our own way. removing the blocks that we’ve used as excuses for too long. It ties in so perfectly with what I’ve already been doing, in my morning pages and here in the blog.

I have to give up the “No time” excuse. When I only work at the Day Job two days a week, and that will bring in just enough to meet our financial needs, I can’t keep using that as a justification for not writing.

I can’t keep hanging on to the Victim excuse by blaming my childhood any more either, now I know about it. Time to stop limiting myself with ”Poor me, I never made it as a writer because I didn’t get the encouragement I needed back then.”

So powerful to start realising this stuff, what fuels the blocks, and start taking responsibility for my own thinking.

What I’m finding though is layers underneath that again. Just when I think, “Okay, I’m good with that, that bit’s done”, I find something else hiding beneath it.

I’m still scared of starting again.

Not of the work of writing. Of having the time and still not being able to do it. Not having the excuses means I have to face that if I don’t succeed it’s because I’m just not good enough.

The reason I wanted to hold on to that Victim role is the fear that it covered up. If I can blame someone else for me not writing, I never have to face the fear that actually, I have no talent as a writer. Fear of knowing for sure what I secretly suspect- I’m really not good enough.

Of course, I really knew that fear was there all along. But I hadn’t really touched it. I knew it intellectually, but I hadn’t felt the fear. I really got in contact with that ten year old me who is hurting and rejected and feeling sad, yes, but she’s also angry as hell and is never ever ever going to feel like that again.

 So protective parent mind finds  a way to keep me safe from that. If I write, I sub half baked first or early second draft. Or I want to write but I don’t write, using all sorts of victimy excuses. Or I think maybe I should give up writing fiction altogether, like I did last night.

 No wonder I reacted so strongly to Jeff Goins’ piece that mentioned giftedness. I fear I don’t have it. I’m afraid I’m going to put in all the work and use all that precious time I could be using doing other things I enjoy and don’t mind I’m not gifted at, like sewing and cooking, then get another emotional slap in the face at the end of it.

The funny thing is, the ten year old me isn’t afraid. I thought the fear came from her, but it doesn’t, it’s from some other part of me. maybe from protective parent me. Ten year old me is fearless. She knows she can write. She wants to write. Making up stories is what she wants to do, more than anything. It’s her favourite game, better than anything. she loves it.

 It’s a crappy lie made up by older me that she only wrote to please other people, that she didn’t do it for herself. She wrote her stories down  in little books and wanted other people to read them because she wanted to write. Because she knew they were good stories. Because she knew that stories are meant to be shared.

 She’s just angry I’m stopping her. She knows she can so it. She’s not afraid of anything. She wants to write.

 Maybe all I need to do is get out of her way.

I feel like I’ve taken a big step on in breaking down the barriers that have held me back, barriers I’ve hidden behind for too long.  Playing it safe gets us nowhere except in a little prison with walls and door and floor and roof made up of self-imposed limitations.

Next thing to look at is the flip side of the fear of finding out I’m really not good enough. What if I find out I am good enough? If my stories get published and read, what then? A whole new layer of fears to hold me back. I am the queen of frigging excuses.

I’ve read about the “onion” metaphor for character conflict, that good conflict should be layered. Peel one layer back and there’s a new layer revealed beneath it. It does seem to work like that. Clear one block just to find the next one, right there.

I must be the biggest onion in the world!

And then there’s another fear- what if I peel back all the layers and there’s nothing inside. Just a hollow empty shell. All you get inside an onion is- more onion. The biggest what-if of all. what if under all this- there’s nothing. No real person to live authentically.

I’m grinning because that’s a crazy fear, and yet it’s genuine. What if there really isn’t a real me? Maybe the onion metaphor isn’t quite right. Maybe the better image is the prison one.

It’s a prison with multiple layers of walls and doors. So breaking down one level or unlocking one door just brings us to another wall, another door. There’s the outside thorny hedge. Then there’s the moat, with crocodiles. then there’s a high stone wall. then there’s metal bars. then there’s the tiny boxy cubicle the person lives inside.

I live inside.

So safe. So small. So trapped.

I know there is a real me in there somewhere, yet I don’t know her, because I’ve never let her out of that prison. she’s certainly going to be pale and weak and puny, she’s been stuck in there so long. she won’t be able to walk at first, that prison was too small to exercise. the light will hurt her eyes, she hasn’t seen the sun for such a long time. she won’t know how to make decisions and choices for herself, because she hasn’t been allowed to. She’s strong, she’s got to be, but it will take her a while to grow into her strength.

She’s going to need some looking after at first. Then she can start doing the writing she longs to do. Wild writing, free writing, writing that feels and goes deep and is bold and fearless and reckless. Writing atht jumps off the cliff to prove it can fly. Writing to give me back the colour and smell and taste and feel my work has been lacking. Editor Mind thinks too damned much, and is scared to feel.

So- how do you know who you really are, inside all the layers? How have you made your own prison? How are you breaking out?

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