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Comment by Brooke Warner on March 11, 2013 at 6:28am

Thanks for your sharing, Nancy! I so appreciate it.

Jo, nice to see you here. Do the novel!! I know how great your writing is first-hand. I hope you'll share with us when you decide to move forward on it. Related to this question of how we handle these SOBs and how we look at discouragement, please check out my March newsletter and green-light yourself!!: http://warnercoaching.com/2013/03/11/go-ahead-and-green-light-yours...

Comment by Joanne Barney on March 10, 2013 at 6:08pm

Hello, Brooke: I have a POD novel, published this week, resting on my desk right now, and I'm hesitant to open it.  I don't want the SOBs to take over and spoil this moment.  So, I'm setting aside the old lady inside my book for a while, answering neglected emails, and writing the first sentence of the next story, this time about a little girl who, in l942, doesn't understand why the evening sky in her peaceful Oregon town is crisscrossed with searchlights. For the moment, the SOBs are quiet, overwhelmed by the coming storm of words. Thanks for writing this blog.

Comment by Nancy G. Shapiro on March 6, 2013 at 12:37pm

I'm finding reconnection to my writing, the worth of what I'm writing, through sharing it with others. I read a chapter from my non-fiction book two weeks ago to a friend who was experiencing something similar to what I'd written, and it made a difference for him in how he was dealing with his experience. He also praised the writing, in a way that echoed my own "list of intentions for my future readers" which was exhilarating to hear. When I blog, readers comment and express what the post meant for them, or that it was simply inspiring or just what they needed that day. 

From a history of silence and being an introvert in the lonely practice of writing, I have to force myself to "be out there," sometimes with grace and other times painfully, and that forcing, that part of the work of writing, is coming back toward me, and sustaining me and the work. Thank you for sharing these thoughts with us, Brooke....as always, the words were perfect, as was the timing. 

Comment by Brooke Warner on March 6, 2013 at 6:43am

I appreciate all of these experiences being shared. Reading what others are experiencing is always so helpful. And I agree with you Kathleen, nothing done in passion and heart is a waste of time. Also, thanks, Regine. Sometimes you don't know what you need or want and so you just have to explore. Try some different things on. Let me know where you end up!

Comment by Kathleen Kern on March 5, 2013 at 6:46pm

I have received praise for my competence, my story-telling, my voice, my originality, my passion, from agents and critics, and some regular readers who just can't understand why that praise has never translated into a contract with an agency or publishing company.  And sometimes I wonder, is this what my writing life will always be?  Unpublished or self-published manuscripts beloved by a tiny demographic?   . . On the other hand, all three of my novels were the outputs of great passion and writing them brought quite a lot of joy into my life, so that alone makes me feel they were not a waste of time. There's something kind of magical when characters begin behaving in ways  and saying things you did not plan, and plots start falling into place whole chapters at a time and you almost feel like you've become a printer instead of a writer, because the words come so fast from your brain to your fingers.  For me, that's a deeply spiritual experience, and I guess I feel that this type of creation happens for a reason.  Didn't happen to the SOB's.  It happened to me.

Comment by Regine Kelly on March 5, 2013 at 5:36pm

The earliest stories and poems I wrote were so exciting, I was about 11 years old. I hid what I wrote for a long time. Not because it felt naughty, or I thought the writing was bad. I wrote because I wanted to and could and DOING something with the "stuff" never occurred to me. Being part of a large and non-readin', writin', ritmatic family--- I know they would not have cared. And the nuns would probably have viewed my writing as (mostly) a venial sin and sure sign that I was the smarty pants they thought I was.

I grew up faster than what I wrote---still, every once in a while I would write something that absorbed me so much, I felt hypnotized. This scared me. When I finished I would sort of "circle" the work and the story or poem felt both very remote, like one of Jupiter's Moons or hot, hot, like black volcanic glass. Editing was a concept I really did not grasp---like algebra. This was also when I started to experiment. I still did not show anybody my writing and never took a class in college. In truth, it would have been hard---as I was unable to comprehend comments on what I wrote when I did begin to join groups. I remember asking a writing teacher (now I am in my 20's) Why exactly should I give a shit what anybody in this class thinks about what I write? She said, Because they are your audience. OH.

But who was my audience? I did not write because I wanted to help people but because felt that it was what I was supposed to do. Writing from my own experience, who would want to read that? So, what would I write. I would write about my experiences as long as I considered them interesting. The big family, the obsolescent tribe, the blank, endless summers, Nah. I would have an interesting life. The interesting life would provide material and I'ld be, a writer of books. An honest living. I would provide the escape and education and entertainment that kept me going as a kid.

Self taught, still learning. I do not know if my work will ever reach a professional level. I know what I like but I am still not sure how, or if I need a push, a group, a room of my own. As the personal assistant of a children's author in the 90's I wrote a children's book. A serious editor read it. Most of her comments looked like this to me: ✐♘♗♒☉⚄☔✈✄♨✌?*&@! but she did say it was lyrical and poetic and "nobody can be taught to write like this." So publish it sister I wanted to say, but I didn't.

Comment by Julie Luek on March 5, 2013 at 4:17pm

Sometimes the most I can manage is to sling mud at the canvas, when what I really want to do is create art with my words. Eventually the words come, but the process from a blank page (point A) to a completed piece (Point B) is filled with sighs, self-doubts and sometimes a physical pain, right in the solar plexus.  If by chance the words form a meaningful whole for someone, then I know the process is worth it. I think...

Comment by Brooke Warner on March 4, 2013 at 10:13am

I hear you, Karyne! Thanks for sharing this here.

Comment by Karyne Corum on March 4, 2013 at 7:16am

Brooke, what you said about the "devious little sobs" is deadly accurate for so many of us, especially me. Whenever I read or hear another author mention these confidence sucking imps I feel a boost of satisfaction knowing I'm not alone. I am my own worst editor and it's held me back for a long time. Every day I'm learning not to worry about getting it right so much as getting to write.

Comment by Brooke Warner on March 4, 2013 at 7:11am

@Fi. Thank you for sharing. It's such a common experience. That "I'm not good enough" message is the loudest one the SOBs have, so know that it's not just you and there are ways to move through it. Do write down the messages just so that you have somewhere to put them. I've seen clients successfully move through "I'm not good enough" by writing it all down and then literally storing the messages somewhere----in the freezer; in a pantry---and then you know they're there. You've already "shelved" them, so to speak. You'll have to find what works for you, but naming it is a start!

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