What If You Quit?

The question the Insecure Writing Group has for the first Wednesday of June is:

Did you ever say “I quit”? If so, what happened to make you come back to writing?

Did I ever quit writing?  Yes for about fifteen minutes.  Long enough to grab a cup of coffee and come to my senses.  Truly, I can't quit writing, that's who I am. 

It's tough especially when the rejections come or the sales aren't there.  But I don't know who I'd be if I didn't write.  On my writing journey I've discovered so many authors who have held out a hand and helped me.  That's the crazy thing of this business, all the support we give one another.  In a business made of hopes and dreams, support is a fantastic thing and with all of it around you - how could you quit?

Along for the ride at the grocery store - what if?

Scrubbing a bathroom - what if?

A story begins with what if and then it's a lot of perspiration to find out how it all ends.  I know life gets in the way; kids and parents, jobs, all it.   I've found that you can make those day to day obstacles work for you in the inspiration department.  There's ideas even in a store.  The other day I was following a parent on her grocery expedition and while she shopped I thought what if this, or that or the other thing happened - what a story that would make.  That same what if comes up when I'm in the middle of cleaning a bathroom or two.  Of course that's when I use the dullness of the task to fill in the blanks as  there isn't much inspiration in the back half of a toilet.

What if?

Actually, this time, while I was spraying and scrubbing I was thinking of that book on serial killers and how all that information is going to come in really handy for a future book.  What it will be about - well serial killers for sure.

More importantly, there's the readers.  Whether you have one reader, a hundred or thousands - it only takes one.  There's nothing better than knowing that someone read your story and liked it, maybe even forgot how tough real life can be - at least for a time.

Quit writing?   

In the words of one of my favourite authors, Stephen King:

"Talent is cheaper than table salt. What separates the talented individual from the successful one is a lot of hard work."

I don't know how true that quote is but I do know that if you quit, you'll never succeed as a writer.

So I write - stopping only to ask the occasional "what if?"

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Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com

The Trap is Set as Bullets Fly!

So all in the name of research, or really - just a cool thing to do on a lazy Sunday afternoon - I made my debut at trap shooting.  Actually, it was my first time shooting a shotgun which I was told after the fact, was too big for me.  My aching shoulder and burning cheek thank you for that information - a little too much, too late.

It really wasn't the day for anything outdoors but when things are planned in advance, the weather often doesn't cooperate - at least not on the prairies.  We're known for weather that is so unpredictable that often one thinks that the weatherman really just rolled the dice on the last prediction.  Today, the wind was crazy strong and there was rain in between.   Weather aside,  I learned a lot 25 shots later.   Like, on my first shot - lean into the gun and you won't plant your foot squarely on the instructor's foot, hard enough to bruise, when the kick throws you backwards.  Or, on the second shot, the fact that the empty shells actually spit out with a bit of force when you empty the gun.  Again, as I rub my cheek, who knew!

So with a simple call "Pull" - let the bullets fly so you can take that clay pigeon down.  Look at that - I'm already into the lingo.  Now, it's just a matter of getting that trap.

All in all, I think with a few more attempts I have a good shot - pun intended - at winning most improved.  In the meantime, while I wait for my most improved medal or maybe while they get one made, it was fun.  I met some interesting people and yes, this is fantastic research.  I'm already thinking of the possibilities.  And given the chance, I'd try it again.  Although wild things - like the squirrels I feed regularly or the geese that landed in a field on the way home - breath easy, any shooting will be strictly at inanimate objects.


Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com
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Cold Days, Hot Nights

It's that time - the first Wednesday of the month and time for:

And it all begins, kind of like this:

In the dying days of winter...

Hah!  Dying days?

She's fooled us again, at least out here on the prairie and yes, at this time of year it's all about the weather!

 -38 Celsius(-36 Fahrenheit) is an all-time record, at least it was on the day I began to draft this post.  Winter isn't about to die, crap out or expire any time soon.  I had to use that phrase, any time soon.  Why?  It's one of those radio announcer phrases that really should die right along with this year's winter.

So there you have it, the cold part of this post, but to get to the hot we have to work our way through a little weirdness.  Everywhere in life there are the seeds of a story and some weeks the ground is fairly littered with ideas. Here's a recent day as an example - the weirdness of it, there lies the story. 

The day began with a visit with my mother who is still getting used to her new condo.  I suspect she is pining for the house she left behind after living there since she was a bride.  And she's also made it known that she misses her stuff.  Although that one does puzzle me as we moved far more than her new place will hold and she's had to continue down-sizing after the move.

"What stuff?" I asked trying to get some kind of specifics.  The liquidation of stuff was ongoing from last years spring garage sale through to the online fall selling bonanza I organized in the fall and ending with a finale of charity donations and garbage dumps. 

"I can't find my evaporated milk.  I was sure I packed three cans."

Whoa... evaporated milk?  Moving into the third month and evaporated milk is the issue?  With sofas and chairs and excess lamps on my past agenda, the last thing I had time to consider was a measly can of evaporated milk. 

An update - The evaporated milk never did make an appearance and I have to admit my mind was on other things, the class a few nights ago for one - the Erotic Writing class at the Public Library - yes, didn't I promise hot nights?  But erotica aside, first I had to deal with the guinea pig.

Guinea pig?

You heard right.  My mother is in charge of my niece's pet while she's on vacation.  Only problem, she won't touch it!  Okay, there lies the rub.  Guinea pigs are fairly harmless critters but they do tend to have a very active elimination system that requires a good clean up every three days if you don't want a stinky cage and an unhappy critter.  Besides, everyone needs a little exercise.  And that was the cue for my entrance - an assist to a guinea pig.

I got home in time to discover mail from the public library.  Not sure what this could mean I opened the envelope and discovered I'd won a prize at the Erotic Writing class - a gift certificate to a sex shop!

Yes all of that was a days work and it left me with this dilemma:
Where to begin? 

What do I write about?

Oh the choices....

Evaporated milk

Guinea pigs

an upcoming trip to the sex shop?

There's ideas everywhere, just make sure you pick up your feet so you don't stumble on one or two.  What has you rushing to get to the keyboard?  Alternatively, what has you picking up one book over another?


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Ryshia
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Work And I Love It!

It's the first Wednesday of the month and following the tradition that Alex Cavanaugh has began, here it is, the Insecure Writer's post:

Tonight's post was the proverbial pulling teeth.  I almost shoved the computer away and said that's it - I cave. 

But I didn't.

Sometimes writing is like that.  Every morning I set my alarm early - before the lights in other houses are on, even here far away from home,  I'm in front of my computer beginning the word count for the day.  Although word count, that's probably, no is, a misnomer.  I don't go for word count.  I learned a long time ago, that for me that's not an effective way to write.  It means extensive revisions that can spin a story out long after I write the end. 

Sometimes it's tough.  There are few people that understand what you're doing, why you are doing it or why your "little hobby" should be called anything but that, never mind work.  But you have to swim through all of that and just keep writing.  It's the only way to eventually make it in this business.

Once I dreamed success would mean the publisher of my dreams would publish my book, market me and put me on every bookstore shelf.  Now times have changed and the dream, well it's there but it's adapted.  I still want that original dream but right now success means getting published by small presses and alternative publishing.  It means promoting myself and extra hours at the computer to do that.  Yes, the publishing industry has changed but the dream is the same - writing success.  And despite all the advise out there, it really only boils down to one word for success - readers.

But to find readers I must write well and then promote what I've written.  But even time to write is difficult in a world where success and what you  do is judged by how much money comes in.  Under a certain bar and it's not considered work.  Interesting term, work.  Because if you don't have work attached to what you do, quantifying it as a gainful means of employment, then what you're doing is a hobby and no one can figure out why you can't stop everything to answer the phone or go for coffee or take grandma to her church bazaar or whatever. And sometimes those interruptions are valid for I will admit that what my work is, is flexible.  But because of that flexibility, often, long after everyone has had supper and settled down for the nightly sitcom, I'm back at the computer for a few more hours.

Sorry everyone, it is work.  I am busy.  I'm writing a story.  It's work and I love it!

Now excuse me - after a good days work, I believe it's time to enjoy what's left of a cool desert evening.

Ryshia
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