Today’s fear

Fear - Saeeda Bibi

@ Saeeda Bibi

My career as a writer is just beginning. It’s going well, so far. One novel published and another on the way. But I’m here to confess my biggest fear: that I’m already washed-up and a has-been.

The reason is this: everything I’ve been working on is old. Years old. I have a backlog of writing back from my younger and more vulnerable years: four novels that have required much editing but are good enough to be worth the work.

Now I’m the first to say that editing is part of writing. An essential part, no less, and what I’m doing is as valid as every first draft that proudly gets ‘The End’ inscribed at its end.

But I haven’t written anything new for about three years now. And, for a writer, that feels like a lifetime.

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My greatest fear is that I have nothing left to say; that I’ve lost the discipline and the drive that makes a writer sit in front of a blank page and simply create. Sure, I have ideas – but nothing ready. I’ve been spending so much time buried in old words that I don’t know how to get down the new.

This isn’t imposter syndrome, and it’s my hope that, once I find my way nearer to the end of my back catalogue, that I’ll be able to see a future once again. But right now I feel like I’m already nearing the end.

It doesn’t help that I’m building a career as a freelance editor, so my time is split between editing and editing. Plus I owe friends my opinions (for what it’s worth) on their novels; I can easily see myself working through this block of already-written novels and then settling for a career as an editor.

I don’t want this. I want to be a writer.

I go online and see author after author telling us of their accomplishments; of their new works of wonder and delight, and I have nothing.

I am not a real writer. I’m someone who can edit works until they look like a competent author produced them, but I still need the source material and that I’m fast running out of.

This, at least, is my fear. Whether it turns out to be true or not is yet to be seen.

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The ruiners of bliss

Last week I explained in my usual half-assed, rough-and-ready way, my intention to self-publish. Now I need to confront my demons. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve no experience and no talent. And I want to do it properly. In my way stand three great enemies. They must be vanquished before I can proceed. They are:

  • Ignorance
  • Impatience
  • Indolence

and they are the ruiners of bliss.

I’m not bothered about formatting. Although the word ‘Styles’ with regards to MS Word still fills me with trepidation, and though I’ve never been closer than a basilisk’s glance from Createspace or any such software, I can cope with technical demands of formatting. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it, even if it means going through my manuscript paragraph by paragraph and uplifting a chunk at a time.

No, what fills me with fear is the idea of creating a cover.

I have no artistic talent. I have no skill with Photoshop or any of the other magnificent cover-generating softwares. I have ideas – some possibly even good – and I know what I want. I can see the finished cover in my mind. But how to get from a vision to a reality? I am ignorant. And I don’t want to spend months learning new skills when it feels like a distraction from my real work. Nor do I want to pay to have it done for me. It’s not so much that I resent spending money (although I do), but that I want to do it myself – at least the thrashing-out of the plan, the original outline, which someone better than me subsequently polishes up.

I am also afraid of approaching a stranger. There is a touch of the misanthrope about me. People are scary.

I am ignorant of the ways of art. I am indolent in that I don’t want to take the time to develop said skills. And I am impatient to get it done whilst I have a bit of free time and a mind focussed on the project.

I am also determined not to put out a half-assed job. There are a lot of bad covers out there. I don’t want my work to be considered in their ranks.

So what do I do? The real enemy is not the task in front of me. It is in my head. That strange combination of cluelessness and possessiveness. This is my baby. I just have no idea how to present it at its best; shit, snot and vomit-free.

I want it all. I want a great job done without taking any time to learn how to do it and without spending any money. Is that really too much to ask?