A bit of a personal post from me today.
Friday was, shall we say, emotional. I had one of those days at work where, very early on in the day, someone completely and utterly trampled over my self-worth. To top that off, as it was their last day on the job, this issue will never be resolved and I’ll never get to know what went wrong. Nothing like confusion, hurt and self doubt to kick off your day. There was only one thing that I could think of that would make me feel better, and that was immersing myself in the fantasy worlds I’ve created. Unfortunately a had a whole day to stew before I could do that though.
To anyone who isn’t a writer, using fiction to forget your problems might not sound like the healthiest thing in the world. The thing about writing that non-writers have to understand is that to a whole lot of us, it isn’t a job. It’s a hobby, it’s our fun, it’s how we unwind and, very frequently, it’s our therapy.
Some people like to explore their trials and tribulations in their writing. Other’s like to use fiction to forget about them for a while. Whichever works for you, it beats the hell out of sitting there with a tub of Häagen-Dazs and is more productive too. On Friday though, being a writer helped me deal in a new way.
First of all we were nearing the end of the day, all of us in the lab being silent, when suddenly my co-worker turned to me with a humongous grin on her face and said “thirty six days” with more than a modicum of excitement. I peered at her, confused. Thirty six days? I spent a few panicked moments trying to remember what happened in thirty six days. Was her granddaughter visiting? A particularly significant footie match? A holiday? Eventually, I had to ask. My memory had failed me. Her grin only widened. “In thirty six days I get to read your book!” Talk about a confidence boost. Not only was someone excited to read my book, they were literally counting the days until they got to do so. Not even one of the writing community, because we all get excited at getting to beta each others’ books. I couldn’t help but join in her excitement, especially when I checked my emails later that evening.
A few weeks ago, I sent off the first 20k of Through the Black to a friend who needed stuff to critique for experience for a course. On Friday, I got their feedback. While I couldn’t get feedback on the overall plot or character arcs, what I did get was hugely positive. It was so validating and almost completely erased the woes of the morning. I was excited and delighted, grinning at my screen so much it hurt. Then I wanted to cry, overwhelmed by the fact that someone was actually enjoying the novel I had poured so much of my time and soul into. Then I was grinning again. This went back and forth long into the night, and it felt amazing.
Sometimes real life is awesome, and that energy gets channelled into writing.
Sometimes real life completely sucks. That energy goes in as well.
Because writing makes everything better, and I might be starting to think that sharing that writing is awesome too.