Living With Doubt

I had a super pompous (and uber-verbose) title for this post. Something that would seem at once both clever and wise with undercurrents of hidden depths.

I deleted it.

Because sometimes simple is best.

I'll be honest, though. Some days I don't know what's best. I look at my writing, and I wonder if maybe I'm delusional. Maybe I drank the Kool Aid at a writer's conference somewhere along the line and became convinced I had a great and shining gift when really all I had was a fleeting piece of inspiration--here one day, gone without so much as a by-your-leave the next. Maybe I'm not the real deal.

Or if I am, maybe I'm not enough of the real deal.

Doubt is a real and present companion to me as a writer. The good news is, I go months without feeling it. Months where I feverishly spill yet another idea onto the page. Months where the cold light of reality has yet to poke its unwelcome nose into my glorious story. Those are grand months.

But then, there are the months when instead of immersing myself into the telling of a new tale, I spend my time picking apart a story I already finished. Finding the flaws. Scouring every paragraph for any sign of weakness.

And I find weaknesses. Every time.

For me, finding the weaknesses isn't a surprise. I'm dedicated to the career I've chosen and that means I'm committed to honing my craft.

The surprise is the stealthy hit of doubt that sucker punches me in the stomach, whispers to me I'll never get it right, and settles onto my shoulder like it's lived there always. I hate doubt. If I'm not careful, I can let it steal my resolve, hijack my imagination, and strand me in a creative wasteland.

But I love doubt, too. Because doubt forces me to take another, deeper look at what I've done. It calls me to push myself harder to see what else I'm capable of doing. And it refuses to let me rest until I'm sure I've done my best.

Living with doubt is part of being a writer. Maybe its part of being human. It can either paralyze us or push us into action. Personally, I've always been a fan of action.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some doubts I need to go prove irrevocably wrong.

Agent Holly's Revision Duck Mafia Strikes Again!

Myra and I long ago realized our agent, Holly Root, had a secret weapon in her rather impressive arsenal: the Revision Duck Mafia. A visit from the RDM goes something like this:

1. First, a missive arrives in your inbox, cleverly disguised as a letter from Agent Holly, bearing the news that, while most of your book was The Awesome, the following fifteen things were verging on The Suckage and must be changed.

2. Second, you take a few days to absorb the news, examine the Suckage parts, and hope you weren't misreading the Awesome bits because if you were, you might as well just give in to your secret longing to go out in a blaze of Cheese Puffs and vodka.

3. Third, you begin revising. Sort of. You revise the easy parts. The ones that you looked at in your initial read-through of the RDM's letter and thought "Hello, genius, how did you miss that?"

4. Fourth, you sort of let the difficult parts simmer. This is the point where Holly's RDM begins flexing its muscle. The RDM frowns on procrastination. They treat waffling with the same vengeful response they give to idiot humans who dare approach their flock without the requisite offering of bread crumbs or a first born male.

5. Fifth, the RDM pays you a little visit. You're sitting at your computer, minding your own business, sort of not revising, when out of nowhere, you feel watched. You look up, and there's a duck. No, really. A duck. Eyeing you with tiny little orbs chock full of hate. It's the RDM's warning shot across the bow. You only get one.

6. Sixth, you revise. In earnest. Because you fear the fuzzy. You really, really do.

Think I made this up? Last time Myra had a revision letter, she was writing on a front porch, wallowing in indecisiveness or angst or procrastination or something the RDM found offensive. She looked up at one point and found herself surrounded by ducks. Hateful, beady-eyed little feathered Revision Duck Mafia members. And she knew. Revise or face the RDM's wrath.

She revised.

Because a wise writer fears the fuzzy.

I've got a revision letter for CASTING STONES. I have no time to dive into it until Friday. You hear that RDM? Friday. I promise. Because I, too, fear the fuzzy.

Billy Goat!

1. School is cancelled. Again.

2. That sound you heard last night? The collective screams of hundreds of mothers across middle Tennessee.

3. If you're counting (and I am!), that makes six days this month. Six.

4. Plus President's Day, so my kids barely remember what the inside of a classroom looks like.

5. And why is the school district cancelling school so often?

6. Snow. Yesterday, we got an entire inch.

7. ZOMGHOLYCOWRUN! Apparently, an inch is all it takes for a Snopocalypse here.

8. Yesterday, we took the kids to see the Percy Jackson film.

9. They loved it. I enjoyed it for what it was. I wasn't wowed like I was with Harry Potter, and I haven't yet read the books so I'm sure my reaction would be different, but it was awesome to hear all the kids cheering and screaming the second the title came on the screen.

10. What was even more awesome?

11. Some lady decided "Hey! I'm going to be sitting in a packed theater! I should use half a bottle of really strong floral perfume to make sure all the rows around me appreciate my womanly scent!"

12. And she sat right behind me.

13. I don't do well with strong floral scents. They give me instant headaches.

14. I don't ever say anything, of course, because she probably didn't realize how strongly she smelled.

15. I was, however, seated next to Daredevil who has yet to show any inclination to keep the thoughts in his head quiet for more than 1.6 seconds.

16. He took a whiff, looked around him, and said in his best carries-over-fifty-seven-other-conversations voice "Whoa! Lay off the flowers, peeps! It isn't doing you any favors."

17. I laughed.

18. Last night, Starshine came into my room and said "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie roll pop?" so fast I could barely understand him.

19. I said "What?"

20. And he looked at me and said "Billy goat!"

21. Like that explained it all.

22. I guess it does.

Spork of Doom Needs YOU

As I told you in a previous post, I'll be interviewing authors and agents using the blog's Usual Suspects as my interviewers. Guests can choose to be questioned by Captain Jack Sparrow, the Were-llama blog mascot, or the Spork of Doom.

Upcoming interviews include:

Author Kelly Gay: Captain Jack
Author Bree Despain: Were-llama
Agent Holly Root: Spork of Doom

Captain Jack was more than forthcoming in giving me his list of questions. The Were-llama had some issues getting past his own Awesomeness, but in the end, he gave me a list of questions.

The Spork of Doom is so obsessed with world domination and pie, he hardly gives me the time of day.

That's where you come in. What question(s) would you like the Spork of Doom to ask its hapless victims?

Presenting: Wally The Were-Platypus!

You've waited with bated breath for two whole weeks, salivating at the thought of a one-of-a-kind Were-platypus cupcake. You loved the idea soooo much, you voted for Wally over the incomparable Captain Jack Sparrow, driving the good Captain to his rum bottle and this writer to the edge of Crazydom.

A Were-platypus is, of course, far more kick-butt than its more tame counterpart--the simple platypus. The Were-platypus is a vicious creature, consumed with blood lust and driven by the need to teach all would-be-water-villains a lesson they would never have forgotten had the Were-platypus been gracious enough to let them live.

He isn't.

He's on a mission. Think Jaws is the worst that can happen to an unwary swimmer? Think the Anaconda is the stuff of nightmares? Think again.

Without further ado, I give you Wally, the Were-platypus.



He looks good from every angle.



What Wally sees.



I can only take credit for baking the cupcake and providing the chocolate sprinkles for fur. My incredibly talented hubby did all the rest. He really, really didn't want me to give him credit for this one. Really didn't. I don't know why.

Another incarnation of Wally is here on Shannon's blog.

Long live Wally the Were-Platypus!

Holla!

1. First, let me just get the whole Wally the Were-Platypus thing out of the way.

2. Yes, I made cupcakes today.

3. Yes, I have Were-Platypus supplies at the ready.

4. No, it wasn't easy to find Were-Platypus supplies at ANY of the stores in my town.

5. Shocking oversight, really.

6. At some point tomorrow, in between work and my hubby's attendance at the local city council meeting, we'll be putting together a Were-Platypus cupcake.

7. Shannon has already made and posted hers.

8. Kerry has been conspicuously silent in the face of my blatant challenge.

9. But I think I dragged Shannon's friend Frankie into the fray.

10. I hope so. I hate to suffer alone.

11. Today, as we drove home from church, the Scientist began discussing the band Nirvana which lead to him giving us a startlingly accurate dictionary definition for the word "nirvana" which lead to him explaining it was generally a term one associated with the Buddha.

12. We asked him if he even knew what the Buddha was.

13. Before he could answer, Daredevil piped up and said, with a heavy dose of I-can't-believe-I-have-to-explain-this-to-you-people, "I know what a Buddha is. It's the part of your body, just above the back of your legs, that you sit on."

14. And he slapped his Buddha, just to make his point.

15. Also, Daredevil snuck a can of silly string onto the school bus this week and coated everyone in a five foot radius around him.

16. Is it any wonder we're on the principal's speed dial?

17. A few days ago, Starshine took a shower.

18. Yes, that statement deserves it's own numeral. As does the fact that this time he used soap.

19. Because we reminded him, but whatever.

20. When he exited the shower, my hubby, Daredevil, and I were all sitting on my bed talking.

21. Starshine ran up to us, his towel flapping around his shoulders like some terry cloth cape, threw his arms above his head, thrust his business in our general direction, and shouted "Holla!"

22. That's "holler" pronounced "haul-ah" for those of you lacking in street cred.

23. I tried really, really hard to convince him that he must NEVER do that on the school bus, in the classroom, or while we wait in line at the grocery store.

24. But, like I said, the principal has us on speed dial.

25. Holla!

Were-Platypus For The Win

So, the Were-platypus cupcake character won by a landslide. Captain Jack has guzzled three cases of rum to drown his sorrow and humiliation.

FYI - I'm still going to make a Captain Jack Sparrow cupcake.

Because it's MY blog.

However, I will bow to the will of my blog readers and make the Were-Platypus cupcake first. But why should I have all the fun?

I've got a stash of books (ranging from YA to paranormal to historical to suspense) to give away! You know you want one. Plus, you get Were-Platypus bragging rights. Apparently, there are over 100 of you who desperately WANT Were-Platypus bragging rights.

Far be it from me to stand in your way. I hereby announce the Were-Platypus Cupcake Character Contest! (And I fully expect those of you who tormented me with votes for Wally to jump on this opportunity to prove your choice was the worthier choice. Yes, Shannon and Kerry, I'm looking at YOU.)

Rules:

1. Make a Were-Platypus cupcake and post a pic of it on your blog.
2. Link that blog post back to this post.
3. Leave me a note in the comment trail saying you've made a cupcake.
4. I'll draw one lucky Were-Platypus fan's name from a hat (No, really. A hat.) and that person will win the novel of their choice from my stash. If you're a writer and you'd rather have a free chapter critique instead, I'll gladly offer that as well.
5. Sorry, but I need to ship the prize within the U.S. or Canada.
6. For 1 extra entry, tweet this contest link. Make sure you include my @cjredwine so I know you've tweeted!
7. For another extra entry, become a follower of this blog.

Due Date: Monday, February 8th, 8 p.m. central time.

Let the Were-Platypus bake-off begin!

*Disclaimer: The top of the cupcake does NOT have to be all frosting. You can use any non-edible artsy-craftsy stuff your little heart desires. I know I will. Who could possibly make a Were-Platypus out of frosting alone?