A What-If Carnival (and Writing Thoughts) 

It’s like a carnival of fleas in my brain. Little flea lions jump through flaming flea sized hoops while others juggle and tunnel with and through pieces of my grey matter. 

No, really. 

I’ve always been a what-ifer. A what will I do when it all comes crashing down-er. A prepare-er for the moment never-again arrives at my doorstep, scythe in bony hand. 

I’ve gotten better. But still there are moments that jump me, gang initiation like, and pound my fears into my skull, kick the ribs of my insecurities, and blind my sense of limited self. 

Imposter syndrome mixes with tar and creates a poisonous gas that leaks from every pore. And I struggle, fight, pull a limb or two free, make it to non-infested lands, only to be pulled back, cartoon like, into the mire of me. 


I’m reminded recently that it’s good to know the rules of writing. It’s good to know why something works, and why something else doesn’t. And then it’s good to play with those rules and see which way they bend before they break. I’ve just finished the rather surpringly painless edits on my first book, and although there’s plenty of room for improvement, as there always will be, I’m glad this particular book was my first. It doesn’t come out until March, but that’s okay. Book two is done and three is awaiting approval. Four is in scribbled idea stage. 

If I did more of what I taught, and less fly by the seat of my pants, the process would probably be easier. When I start writing, I know the who of it. I know the primary conflict. I know how I want it to end (vaguely). All the other stuff just kind of happens. Although that can mean I write myself into a corner and have to start again, I think that might be just the way I do it. 

How do you do it? 

Moving forward is a good way to move forward. I’ll keep trying to do so. 

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