Yesterday was a very interesting day, meeting new people, spending time with people I’ve only met briefly before and my dear friend, Ivy. We talked about self-publishing, writing, marketing, Ebook and Amazon.
Then an amazing buffet was served. It included lots of veggie food. Tea and coffee were in plenty supply.
Afterward, we chatted about writing review, J,K Rowling and what books we’ve read recently. And then did a writing exercise.
That’s when my school day fears returned and I felt like a fish out of water. A sheet of paper and a pen… and the choice of three cards. Now you have ten minutes in which to write a funny story with three subjects. Mine was ‘Deserted farmhouse, Paranormal, and Artist. Without the pressure hundreds of stories bubble up in my mind, but there and then nothing! After hearing other people amazing and funny stories my heart just froze. For a moment, I felt that I could never join these people again. Ivy has asked me before about joining the RNA as she thinks they have a lot to offer me, but I won’t because I haven’t had a novel published yet.
It’s at times like these I question my abilities to be a writer. Finding myself outside my comfort zone is hard and reminds me of all the awful moments in my life like exams at school, driving tests, job and career interviews, being at parties where everyone is school teachers or university students. Then there’s that awful moment, at seventeen, when a boyfriend took me to meet his parents. He was going onto university to become a school teacher, and I was about to start work in a factory. We were all sitting around drinking tea when they started to ask me about ‘my future plans’ how well I did at school, what qualifications did I have, what my parents did for a living, when did I live… I felt like Cinderella only I didn’t have a fairy godmother and there wasn’t a ball to go to, or a glass slipper and as for my Prince, he wasn’t that charming anyway. Well, university is full of clever, intelligent women who his parents did approve of far more than little Cinders.
I do regret not being able to read my winning Harrogate short crime story aloud after being asked twice last year. I find it hard even though I tell myself that I won’t die if I make a mistake, no one will laugh or point the fingers at me, but still the small child inside me can’t bear the thought of even trying just the once.
Painting and writing is such a joy to me. I can create thing which are seen and enjoyed by others without me being there. In a way, I can be anonymous just my name of a cover or a title, the mind behind an idea or plot.
Part of me would love to overcome my fear of failing, but every time I tell myself I shall be stronger next time, the child in me tucks herself further into that dark corner and turns her face to the wall. 😦
Today, as another storm hits our country, I shall be back to my quiet room, with my cat, my keyboard and my thoughts.
Have a great day, keep dry, safe and warm.