So here’s a moment in the life of this writer:
-in the morning, clumsily write on my iPhone while kids are at swimming (I forgot to bring a notebook and pen)
-while driving back from the pool, re-write a scene in my head for my second Regency mystery novel (it’s not working out right! why isn’t it working out right!) *problem remains unsolved*
-meanwhile, intermittently through the day, worry that my writing skill is mediocre at best, that I must be fooling myself to think anyone would willingly want to read my drivel, and thus I should stop wasting my time, maybe I should take a pottery class and express myself creatively that way…
-in reaction to the negatives, affirm the positive: ‘its the journey not the destination’ and who cares about success? *remember what Andy Warhol said* JUST MAKE ART!
-ignore inner critic (‘YOU’RE MEDIOCRE!’) and JUST MAKE ART by continuing to research social reform movements as it pertains to early nineteenth century England, because it relates to my current novel…
-then read over the best bits of my work because, hey, it may not be the greatest novel ever written (the one they adapt into a movie and then Jennifer Lawrence wins an Oscar because she starred in it)…but it’s my novel and it’s not bad, even good in spots, and as an experienced reader/writer, I feel I have some credibility to judge…
But does judging matter? Or does it get in the way of the creative process? Look at how it distracted me today from my essential purpose! The inner fretting: is it good? is it bad? is it worthy? will they make it into a movie?
Never mind all that: JUST MAKE ART!
Busy Writing 