Ugh.

I just got the final versions of the ebooks for Nightchild, Sacrifice, Collected Poems and Collected Stories. I made the mistake of reading some of the poetry and scanning the stories.

Ugh. I hate them.

This is why I try not to re-read my work, and if I do, to never do it when I have matches nearby.

Things in my day-to-day life have been challenging of late, and naturally, that means that I have begun to give my writing a vote of no confidence.

Something tells me that this is a good time to step away from the computer and just go play in traffic for a while.

ISBNs

My fear of failure and my fear of success are busy choking each other in the corner of my mind, so while the girls are occupied, I thought I'd pop in and make a quick announcement. Pending the receipt and registration of the ISBN numbers, Sacrifice will be ready for release on 3/1/10. That's exactly three weeks from today.

I'm elated, but absolutely terrified at the same time. I'm hoping for a reasonably good reception to the work, somewhere between OMGthenewTwilightyay! and chirping crickets.

Buried Treasure

I was cleaning today and found a secret cache of about eight unfinished short stories, along with two completed (and very bad) ones. This spate of random personal archaeology has mixed results. On the positive side, I cleared out some much-needed storage space, eliminated clutter, and found two partial pieces of writing that I'd been looking for. On the negative side, though, is the emotional aftermath of reading some of these things. Based on the dates and contents of the rest of the box, I'd say these papers haven't seen the light of day since 1995. The writing has, to say the least, poor. Thank God I've improved in the last 14 years.

the creative soul's plague

I'm convinced that everyone with a creative soul is also plagued by insecurity. I don't mean the garden-variety self-doubt that couches questions like, "Do these pants make my butt look big?" I mean the nagging, heart-aching, chewing-on-your-will-like-an-evil-rodent insecurity that makes the creative soul want to wither up in the darkness and throw in the towel. I've spent more than my share of time in that darkness, and it's something that I'll always struggle against. Now, as I'm trying to get Irish Horse Productions up and running in the face of technical difficulties and financial restrictions, the light is dimming. I hope I come out of this with my will to write more or less intact.

See you on the other side...

Superstition and the written word

I've had the opening line for another Clans book running in my head, but I'm afraid to start it until I have Sacrifice finished. My writing is a fragile thing, or perhaps I'm simply superstitious. I'm nervous to start something new in the middle of working on something else, for fear that the original project never gets completed. I've made a mental note about this opening line, but I can't bring myself to even put it on a page for fear of upsetting my muse's internal balance.

I used to describe the stories as I was preparing to write them, but that was disastrous. Once the words left my lips, they left my head, and I was never able to get them back. Now I have to hoard my words like a miser, keeping them a deep, dark secret until I'm able to reveal them in a finished work. I'm even hesitant to tell acquaintances the title of the work in progress. It's ridiculous, and I'm far too precious about it, but I've been so disappointed in the past...perhaps I'm going to absurd lengths to stave off more sorrow.

I wonder if other writers have superstitions about their work. I have more than my share. I'm convinced that if I take a break from writing a new book before it reaches page 15, I'll never finish. I'm equally convinced that if I can just finish three chapters, I'll finish the whole. That's not always the case, though (Knight of Sorrows comes to mind, and I still tell myself I'll finish that). Still, despite the lack of probitive evidence, I persist in these tics and foibles until I drive myself nearly insane.

Maybe I don't want to stop the madness. Madness is, after all, the mother of some really awesome stories...