Bootstraps v2.1

Writing is work. Being a writer is even more work. It’s more than just riding the rainbow of inspiration with your sparkly unicorn muse and sexy characters who apparently have ideas of their own (so you think). In fact, I’m starting to reach the conclusion that the fun-magic part of being a writer is only about 20% of the job, if you’re lucky. The rest is work, whether it’s the “work” part of pushing beyond the initial muse-rush, the work of editing, formatting for e-book publication, shopping to agents and/or publishers, shopping for or creating your own covers, or marketing – and that’s just the stuff involved with one book itself. That’s just the work of writing.

The work of being a writer is what I’m feeling around with lately. Because I’ve admittedly sucked at being a writer for about a year, now. It’s okay – that’s not me being hard on myself, and I’m not beating myself up over it. After all, spilt milk, and yadda yadda. It’s understandable because it’s tough, yelling to the great noisy void of the internet when you’re a barely-known voice.

Have you seen twitter? The people with anything interesting to say are already established and rarely have the time to notice a response in the sea of everyone else vying for their attention. Everyone else seems to fall into one of two categories – friends who already know you and are in the same league of “why are we doing this?” and other shmoes who are trying to make a name for themselves, but who go about it by flooding their streams with self-promotions and re-tweets, which rarely get clicked or noticed.

And blogging? feh. Who the hell is actually reading this, anyway, right?

The thing is, you have to look at all that as the building of a foundation for the future. It’s totally okay if no one actually reads or gives a damn about this blog right now. It’s here, and it needs to get used, just like the twitter, just like – oh, I guess eventually facebook, although I’m pretty sick of facebook even as a personal social tool.

My point is, and this might only be falling on my own ears at this moment, Writers Write. Not just their books. Not just When The Muse Visits. But they Write. Every damn day. In multiple areas. It’s okay – hell, it’s more than okay, if I blog here about my toenail fungus or my dog’s hotspots (neither of which actually exist, knock on wood). I don’t really have anything better to offer the internet at the moment. After all, you can get much better writing and social-media-for-writers advice from the pros (this post, btw, was somewhat inspired by 5 Traits of the Successful Author by Kristen Lamb). There are far more popular sites that offer up daily doses of interesting links and news. (For example, Dear Author is where I found the link to this great piece about how “Dirty Dancing Is a Subversive Masterpiece”) So what is there left for little old me to do? Well, I can fucking blog.

Maybe I won’t be blogging about what’s trendy or interesting to the masses all the time. Because you know? Maybe that’s not me. But being fake never worked for me. I guess that’s why this has been kind of hard to get into. I used to livejournal all the damn time. It’s kind of embarrassing how much I posted on there. Don’t worry, I won’t be going that route again. But maybe somewhere in between – a happy medium. If for nothing more than to get my ass into the swing of blogging again, in a manner that will draw me to it, and hopefully, eventually, eventually draw readers as well.

Also, if you are reading and wondering about that Serial idea I had mentioned a while back? I’m still sorting that out. I guess I was little premature with that idea – I was going to take an old story I’d started, back from my first experience with NaNoWriMo, clean it up, and start posting it as a serial. Except… when I opened it up? Yeah, it’s bad, y’all. I mean, really bad. The plot is still solid, and I like the characters and settings. But the plot takes place in a pre-smartphone world (think mid- to late-90s). And the writing is just embarrassing. So florid and all over the place. We’re talking real marysue material, here. I’d be tempted to post it as a lulzy example of suckitude, but I think at this point in my career that would get lost to newcomers. So, it’s going to be a little delayed while I figure out just what I want to do with it.

That’s all I got for right now. Over and out, until tomorrow or the day after (yes, that implies a pickup of posting frequency).

Oh, and in the meantime, have a Daily Hottie pic:

Henry, Oh Henry.

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