It’s in the stories and movies we know, love and sometimes fear. From Spiderman to Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Alien and beyond evil-doers and organisms steal a person’s entity or intelligence. They burrow their way into one’s flesh and mind to feed.
Run. Hide. Scream. Still, life will never be the same.
Fiction is the part I disagree with, since I currently have a being growing inside me which feasts daily on my energy and brain cells.
That’s right! I can run, hide and scream. Still, life will never be the same.
My husband and I are happy to announce our science fact. We’re having a baby and making our precious three-year-old a big brother in the month of December!
Writing, for me, began randomly one day with a spark of idea and the fire to create. In the blink of an eye, it seemed, my story was finished and my brain overflowed with ideas begging their due attention. With all the excitement of my new found passion, I decided to become an author. I wanted to see my stories published and shared the world over.
Little did I know, writing was the easy part.
After loads of research and boring, yet helpful, reads, I found there was a staircase before me. The top high in the distance and many steps in between, some massive and some small.
So, as I often do to keep my self on track, I made a list that went exactly like this. Write, become member of writing associations, write, find local editor, write, create website and blog, write, research agents, write, write query letter, write. I’ve managed to cram other steps along the way, ones I picked up from writer friends. Such as tweet, take self editing class, plotting class and join a critique group.
In all of my plotting and planning I never thought of my self as selfish, self centered, or egotistical. It was work. Work I loved and still do. But when I started tweeting and went live with my blog and website, whoa, it creeped me out.
I was at the beginning of my journey with no fancy book covers to flash over my website. I commissioned two friends to create my logo and take my fancy pictures to decorate my web spaces. And I loved them, until I went live. After, I felt uncomfortably narcissistic because I shouted to the world, “Look at me!”
“Look what I can do!”
I hope you enjoyed the Ode to Stuart!
Now, I focus on the goal, the publication light at the top of the stairs, and don’t fear I’m going to fall in love with my refection and die from the inability to leave it. Neither am I going to cringe every time I see my reflection hoisted on the web for all to see. (Haha, such a nerd. It’s the title of the first novel I wrote.)
With our lives, even as non-writers, on the sticky web for the world to see, have you ever felt a tad narcissistic? Uncomfortable with the public light, no matter how dim?
That’s right, there’s another reason to love writing. A writer’s age is inconsequential. Sure there are prime numbers large publishers like to see. But from eight to eighty and below and beyond those ages people’s stories get published.
Children are writing children’s books. Teens are writing thousand plus page masterpieces. Senior citizens are writing the gambit from murder confession memoirs to high paced thrillers from the nursing home.
Years ago, one of my high school students sat huddled in the back of the classroom intent on the pages of his book for the few precious seconds he could steal between the end of the assignment and the bell to change classes. Curious I made my way toward him to see what was so enthralling. The book was Eragon. It later dawned on me, my student was the same age Christopher Paolini had been when his first novel, Eragon, was published.
A favorite author of mine, Jack Higgins, is in his eighties and still rolling out the new releases, A Devil Is Waiting. Thanks, Jack!!
So, breathe easy. Your age is just a number. Work on your craft. Write your story, no matter how young or old you are. Clear your path. Who knows where it will lead.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, “I love nature.” For me, there’s nothing more beautiful. Yes, old buildings are enchanting. A couple holding hands is sweet. But few things are as awe inspire as this…
No, pictures don’t do justice to the diverse spectacle that is nature. I hope my words do.
Aside from the main characters’ love story and the turmoil and detours which stand in the way, nature is my favorite thing to write into a novel. I want my readers to feel the wind on their face and the sand in their toes. I want them swept up in the storm or chilled by the first winter snow.
What is your favorite thing to read or write in a novel, aside from the main characters’ story?
Megan Mitcham 