I started writing in my teens. But writing books isn’t a career (at least, I was never told it could be). So throughout the years I only wrote as a hobby. Then in 2008 my personal hero gave me a membership to Romance Writers of Australia. And he’s probably regretted it ever since *grin*.
In September of that year I started to write, seriously. My dreams changed. Maybe this whole being published thing wasn’t such a pipe dream after all. Maybe I could be a published author.
I wrote and wrote. Quickly and copiously. I loved to write – of course, I had no idea of craft back then, so writing was easy. But over the years since my writing has slowed. Every sentence, every word was weighed and considered. Was I telling not showing? Too much backstory? Don’t use too many adjectives. Oh, no a passive sentence.
My internal editor was killing me, one word at a time.
But recently I’ve managed to take my internal editor and shove it in a box, with a big chain, and lock it in a cupboard. It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve managed to do it. After all, as Nora Roberts famously said: You can’t edit a blank page.
My words are starting to pour out again. Yes, I’m breaking every craft rule known to mankind, but I can fix them – I know how to. I just need the words there first.
And the wonderful thing about it is I’ve rediscovered my love for writing. It had always been there, but my internal editor had been bigger and badder. But good always wins over evil, right?