View From a Hotel Window, 8/24/18: Albuquerque

I’ve actually been in this hotel room since yesterday at around midnight, but I also stayed in bed all day yesterday which was delicious, so this is the first time I managed to haul myself over to the window and snap a shot. Hello Albuquerque!

I’m here for Bubonicon 50, at which Mary Robinette Kowal and I are writing co-guests of honor, and we’ll be doing stuff individually and together and it will be delightful. If you’re in the greater ABQ area, why not come on down? We’ll have all sorts of fun.

The Anxiety of a Non-Writer Surrounded By Writers

Hey, everyone, hope you’re having an awesome Friday! One thing some of you might possibly know about me is that my dad is a writer. A successful one, at that! And as such, he knows a lot of other successful writers. Because of that, I’ve had the amazing chance to meet so many super cool, fantastic authors and be immersed in a book-filled, writing-intensive world. A world where words on a page are basically blood in your veins, where hardcovers are the air you breathe and paperbacks the water you drink. I’ve lived in this world for as long as I can remember.

And, honestly, it’s pretty daunting. It makes you think, how can I ever amount to what all these amazing people have? Will I ever be at their level, going on book tours and having signing lines hundreds of people long? How can I become as great as them, have my writing be as loved as theirs?

So, I started writing, determined to get to that point, hellbent on having a best-seller out by the time I was eighteen, having my book translated into twenty different languages and tour the world by the time I graduated high school. Obviously, that didn’t happen.

I don’t have anything to show for all my time spent writing. Because I can never finish anything. And I know writer’s block is a thing and that a lot of professional authors struggle with completing a book, but eventually, they do complete it! And I have never been able to do that. I keep thinking, this will be the story I finish, and it never is. I can’t make it past a certain page number in any of my stories.

So I contemplate why I can’t just crank something out, why I can’t just sit down and finish any number of things I’ve started and abandoned in my Google Drive cemetery. I think the main reason is because I love all my concepts and ideas, but as soon as I start putting those thoughts onto the page, they’re not what they were when they were still in my head. Trying to write them out seems to almost ruin them. I can’t seem to convey the things in my head well enough to be satisfied with the thousands of words I’ve written.

And the whole thing of being a writer is conveying your ideas to others through the written word, but I just can’t seem to do that. How can I ever be a writer? I’ve got the support, the connections, everything anyone who wants to be a writer could wish for, and I just can’t write. It’s not even like I’m trying to write a whole novel, I’m just trying to get something finished, and it seems impossible.

My whole life I’ve been around successful people who are doing exactly what I want to do, who are living the life I want to live, and I don’t think I’ll ever catch up.

Anyways, this is my second to last post on here, so I wanted to share that with y’all. I know a lot of you like to write, too, and it probably seems like an impossible task sometimes. Well, you’re definitely not alone. Keep at it, though. That’s the best advice I have for you.

And have a great weekend!