Saturday, 25 March 2017

The Writer's Space

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Chuck Wendig, in his new and excellent post, recommends professional authors to have their own space. Now, without getting into who exactly can be considered a professional author and whether I qualify as one,  I can definitely say I might be the poster girl for the Disadvantaged Writers International Forum, working with zero private space, zero budget, and a miserly allowance of time.

I'm not saying this to complain, but rather to demonstrate that if I, under my conditions, can produce a respectable amount of work, anyone can if they want to badly enough.

I don't have my own office, work desk or even computer. I live in a rural area where I often have no Internet signal or, to be honest, even power. Yes, I might be in the middle of an important email and not be able to send it, or I might just be finishing a chapter and it all goes into oblivion as the computer gets turned off (because our old laptop has no battery life, it must be plugged in at all times). I do save obsessively, but still sometimes I lose work.

I have three kids and homeschool, which means that any serious writing gets done when everyone is asleep. Furthermore, no one else in the house acknowledges the need for actual uninterrupted writing time. My family knows I write, and they think that's cool, but they have this notion that books write themselves and if I'm home around the clock, I'm not entitled to have a minute to... no, not to myself, because that would be a ridiculous demand, but to do something that might potentially contribute to feeding and clothing everyone under this roof.

If you could see me some days, you'd pity me, desperately trying to put in 500 words in 10 minutes, refusing to lose the battle and admit no writing will get done today. And yet I'm making progress. I have a book coming out next month, another making rounds of agents, yet another project currently circulating among beta-readers, and a WIP novel I have planned to be 100K words, out of which I have written 40K so far.

It's like walking uphill while pushing a heavy barrel in front of me. I wish I could ditch the barrel, and I do sometimes feel handicapped because of it, but I don't give up. I keep walking.

So can you. Even down a muddy road. Even in shoes that pinch. Even if nobody knows why you bother walking down that road at all.

You just keep going, no matter what, until you get there.

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