Yes, we all learn from our mistakes, however, we don’t have to make all the mistakes before we learn. We can equally learn from the mistakes of others.
In the pursuit of our writing careers, there are mistakes that have the potential to truncate it even before it begins. I am not excited to say that I have made a good number of them and still working to dig myself out of my errors.
I am equally ashamed to say that I fall into the category of writers with piles of half-finished stories and essays yet to be polished and sent to potential publishers.
The great thing is that though these mistakes might derail your quest for a while, with the right approach, you can get back on track.
Writing ‘A Pipe Dream.’
I’ve met a lot of would-be writers who are either ‘working on a book,’ or planning ‘to start working’ on one – when they can find the time – and most of them have worked on that elusive book of theirs for years and years that they’ve even forgotten what the story was about in the first place.
Interestingly, they don’t share their attempts with anyone. They also hardly bother to read guides, blogs or articles that could help to improve their writing career. If you are such a closet writer who fails to show your work to anybody and unable to compare it to what’s obtainable out there, you are living in that highly deceptive fantasy land that your work is fabulous.
For some reason, lots of nonfiction writers think that writing a how-to book, a memoir or an autobiography is easier to write than fiction and this is far from the truth.
Writing nonfiction requires careful structuring — especially a memoir. Read More...
Emma’s relationship with water is best described as fearful fascination. It’s taken more than two decades to get her to accept to sit by the waters without having an anxiety attack.
The doctor feels that part of her therapy is to reconcile with what happened and Jack buttresses this opinion with frequent plans to visit the seaside and the suggestion that the children should learn how to swim well in water bigger than their bathtub.
Commonsense tells her that’s the right thing to do, but dread always sits in her stomach like a huge lump of rock.
She likes to watch the boats and the kids play happily in the sand. Occasionally she even dips her toes into the water.
If only she could get past the horror that tends to paralyze her mind – watching her twin sister Ella drown when they were seven years old is a memory that she doubts she would ever forget.
Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand. —George Orwell
This quote captures my recent thought as I thumb through a rough draft of one of my projects, gritting my teeth at the number of pages that needs to be edited. Some days I wonder if I am out of my mind, yet I know that I can’t stop. Stopping would be committing writing suicide.
She hissed in annoyance and sighed in resignation. Not knowing if her irritation was due to her changed plans, the unpredictable weather, the weather channel or the summation of all three.
They just never seemed to get it right these days. Especially the new weather girl with the dry sense of humour, pout and too much makeup. She had said they would have a fair Spring day, yet here came sleet with ice nestling on the leaves.
With another sigh at her changed plans, Geeta put the kettle on for a spot of tea. She should have listened to her bones. Her tired bones could tell the neurotic weather better than all those fancy TV personalities, except maybe Harrison’s creaky bones.
Why worry when you can pray
trust in Jesus and he will guide your way
don’t be a doubting Thomas
just place your trust in Jesus
why worry, worry, worry?
It’s such a simple song but anytime I am inundated with worry and struggling to have my way with certain things, it pops into my head prompting me to offer it up to God and I have learned that prayer is indeed the master key.
For this week’s prompt:
‘my writing is a struggle against inner demons. I use my words to paint my thoughts and win the battle in the recesses of my mind.’ Jacqueline
As the pile of freshly felled tree trunks grew, so did Theo’s stress grow. The cycle just never seemed to stop. He truly didn’t mind the work, not in the least, but it also didn’t hold much of his interest.
Though he found the art of turning the logs into different purposes satisfying, at the same time, he felt a deep dissatisfaction with his life. After high-school graduation, he had wanted to proceed to college and pursue his dreams of becoming a Civil Engineer, but that thought had simply upset his dad.
His great-grandpa down to his dad were woodcutters and he was expected to be satisfied carrying on with the family business of logging. It’s been three years since graduation, he wanted to bring up the conversation of going back to college again, but the time never seemed right – there were bank loans to repay and dad’s health had taken a poor turn.
With each passing day, the displeasure simply weighed him down. He knew that he was called to be more than a lumberjack which was what life currently offered him.