I've been reading my favourite blogs this weekend; aside from admiring the weather outside my window. As I read, I'm stuck by the similarities between writers. So many of us share strong commonalities. We'd rather write than go to a party, attend a banquet, or shop with a friend. And I've forgotten how many times I've heard a gifted, talented writer say, "I terrified they'll discover I'm a fraud." Or another state: "I don't know why I think I can write -- I can't." And yet another: "If I don't publish, I'm nothing." Or the equally terrifying declaration: "Maybe I'm just a One-Book author."

Sad statements from creative, inspiring human beings.

Do these doubts and self-deprivation go hand in hand with creativity?

I've made my share of sad statements. And just as quickly, I have read a piece of composition and thought: Wow, I wrote that. And then four paragraphs later I've wanted to crawl under a rock because of my inadequate concept of comma and semi-colon placement. How can I call myself a writer and not retain the difference between a coordinating conjunction and introductory fragments? Or independent clause and disruptive thoughts?

There are those who would argue that to write effectively you must first master the mechanics of writing. My dear husband often refers to me as his Word Mechanic. That's because to him what I do is remarkable. He would never think to stick me along side the likes of Stephen King, Eric Lustbader, or Margaret Laurence for comparison. To him, if I have a problem with commas, I should ask a friend who knows about commas.

I've seen the sales reports for Roberts, Patterson, and Evanovich and wondered what ever possessed me to pick up a pen. What can I offer that hasn't been explored a zillions time before? How can I compete with these legends? What ever made me believe I should try?

While I'm waiting for the answers, it occurs to me that self-doubt may be a motivating factor. I, like so many of the writers I admire, am profoundly curious about the human psyche. Particularly mine. Every time someone asks me why I write, I'm reminded that I'm a driven creature. I'm motivated by an unexplainable need to tell a story. But not just any story. Characters, for no apparent reason, pop into my head and refuse to leave until I discern what they want, why they want it, and what will happened if they fail. In the same instance, I'm the first one to snap at my friend: "Don't be stupid. You're the most gifted writer I know," yet, retaliate when told the same thing with: "Yeah--right. You're just saying that because you don't want to hurt my feelings." My delicate, easily crushed feelings.

I've questioned everything since I was a kid. In fact, my mother said I used to drive them nuts by all my questions. I needed to know why the guy on TV said what he said in the manner he said it. Consequently, nobody could ruin a good movie faster than I.

It was the same way around adults. I couldn't tell you how many times after interrupting their conversation my dad would say to me: "Go play outside." Whereas I would reply, "Yeah, but what happened to the man? How come his wife left him? Is he going to be okay? Why did he ram that car? How come he can't see his kids? Doesn't he love his wife anymore?"

When I told my parents that I wanted to be a writer, they smiled and nodded as if they'd known all along.

I don't know why I write. And I don't know why so many talented writers are full of self-doubt. But this I do know: actors act, singers sing, artists draw, dancers dance, and writers write. All for the sake of an unquenchable urge: What if ...?

I used up the entire morning trying to figure out how to add links to my blog, but--Enough already! I'm on a roll with this: "A day in the Life of a Writer" stuff.

DEAD WITNESS isn't my first novel. I started with Alway's Father's Child, a coming-of-age story about the complicated relationship between a woman and her dad. Suffice to say, it was a 7-year learning tool. The book's on a shelf somewhere amongst my clutter, collecting dust.

DEAD WITNESS was my true beginning as a storyteller. The spark of its conception came to me one morning back in '91 while my brother was visiting from Whitehorse, Yukon. He was on the phone talking shop to one of his employees, (my bro's a PI/Security Consultant)--when this question popped into my mind:

If I disappeared and was presumed dead, would my big brother leave it at that?

And as easy as that the story began playing through my mind like a video; Dvds didn't exist yet. I saw Valerie McCormick, who just happened to look exactly like Cheryl Ladd when she was 38, scouting Lake Union for a Bayliner. I saw her witness a horrific crime. And then through circumstances she couldn't control, I saw Valerie forced to give up the most precious gift a woman could ever give away: her children.

I've always been a strange fish, but honestly I felt her pain. I was devastated for her. Three months later, I typed THE END.

Wow.

I mean it took 7 years to write AFC. And then 3 months for DW! I was definitely on a roll. Of course, then I joined an online writer's group called Novelpro, whereupon the late author and wonderful storyteller, Jan Holloway critiqued my manuscript.

Ouch.

I learned a great deal from Jan, bless her heart. And as for NovelPro founder, J.R.Lankford, I'm forever in her debt. With the help of many gifted writer/critiquers, like Keith Pyeatt, Art Tirrell, Alan Jackson, Dave Shields, JoAnn Hernandez, to name a few, I fine-tuned Dead Witness into the well-crafted, well-written suspense thriller it is today. Several years later, I joined Novels-L, and then DeadlyProse.

If you've written a novel and are ready to take the next step, Novelpro, Novels-L, or DeadlyProse are vital to your nuturing as an inspiring writer. They're all worth their weight in gold.

But enough with the cliches...

When I was a kid, my dad nicknamed me Josephina, the laughing hyena, with the long wind--So--enough with the history. Tomorrow I'll try and come up with something brilliant and original. Like the time I wrestled an audience member to the floor so I could get a better look at Bruce Springsteen.

Blogging has become the norm. Everyone has one. It's the in-thing to do.

I resisted for years, believing no one would want to hear what I have to say. And that in itself is a strange thought considering I'm a writer.

Only I'm more of a storyteller. My compositions are derived from my imagination. Not my often mundane life. I sit at a computer for hours, days, something months without contributing to the world around me. What could I say that was worth your time to read?

And then it struck me that I am experiencing something worth mentioning. I've recently published one of 5 old manuscripts, DEAD WITNESS. This one I'd started in 1991. Gads, that's 17 years ago!

Because I was convinced that after all these years I couldn't possibly make it any better, I had only decided to print one copy for myself. Something to hold in my hands, call my own. And I would have been satisfied with that if my family hadn't gotten so excited.

I never considered what they must have thought with me stuck at the computer for so many years. I told them I was writing books, but what does that mean to a non-writer, really?

When that first copy of Dead Witness arrived in the mail, my husband was more excited than I was. He told everyone. And then requests started coming in: "Where can I get my copy?" One thing led to another and viola, I went the route I never suspected I would go: I've self-published.

Self-published?

It almost sounds pornographic.

What does it mean exactly?

It means my manuscript wasn't grabbed up by a big publishing house, or even a small publishing house. It means I have enough rejection letters in my file to wallpaper my ensuite. It means the business of publishing said that I wasn't good enough, that my book wasn't good enough.

To date, I've sold 8 copies.

ha ha ha

Kidding aside, self-publishing really means I believe in myself. The heck with what publishers believe. Or agents for that matter; I've had 3 , & I'm here to say they're fickle.

Anyway, it's a beginning.

The next step is exactly what I'm doing now, blogging. Apparently, blogging is the way to go if I want to be successful. I haven't figured out what blogging has to do with selling my book, but I'm not tempting fate & arguing about it.

Hopefully my blogs will be interesting, informative, & maybe a bit entertaining. My mandate is to share with you the ins & outs of being an author. What's it all about: this strange obsession to tell stories? Then force them on the public?

Guess we'll have to wait & see.

Maybe we can figure it out together?

cheers,

joylene