Although I mostly love to write, there are a few things I don’t love so much. Here are ten.
1. I can’t turn it off or leave it behind. The desire to write stalks me everywhere I go. Whether I’m walking the dog, watching TV, taking a shower, or baking cookies, I’m thinking about plots, or my next book idea, or contemplating how to kill the bad guy in a suitably original manner. Vacations always include (1) my laptop and (b) a pad of paper and a pen.
2. Internet research is a necessary but tricky evil. I start out delving into Turkish gangs in East London, which leads me to click on an article about Jack the Ripper. Was Jack, perhaps, a royal? Which leads me to Kate and Wills and, oh, my God – just look at that gorgeous Seraphine maternity dress! I fall into one rabbit hole after another…and waste a lot of time in the process.
3. You’re only as good as your next book. You might have written three novels, or six, or ten; but readers always want to know – what’s next? And when can we expect to see it? There’s also the expectation – from readers, my agent, and my editor – that the next book will be better than the previous one(s). It can be a bit daunting, to say the least.
4. Writing for publication deadlines can be brutal. You hand in your completed manuscript and go to work on another project. And hearing nothing from your editor, you assume all is well and get drawn deeper into that other project. Days, weeks go by. And then the manuscript lands back in your email inbox…with eleven pages of revision notes. You basically need to rewrite the entire book – in two weeks’ time. And, somehow, you do. It involves 12-hour writing days, unwashed hair, lots of coffee, and a wrecked household. But you do it. And then you sleep for 12 hours straight.
5. Book reviews. When they’re good, they’re the most wonderful thing ever. When they’re not – and unless they offer objective, constructive criticism – there’s nothing worse. Mostly, I don’t read reviews. I quit reading them after realising that (1) opinions are subjective; (2) I can’t please everyone; and (3) I can’t change the way I write. So if someone thinks my book is the worst ever or can’t fathom how in the world I ever got published, well…I’m sorry if my book wasn’t for you. But it is what it is. And the fact remains that I did get published. So there.
6. Knowing that there are SO many better writers out there. I’ll never write as well as James Lee Burke or Marian Keyes or Anna Quindlen. Never.
7. Coming up with a new story idea is never easy. Every idea I jot down initially is derivative, or boring, or just plain stupid. Good stories, at least for me, need time to percolate around inside my head for a while. Only last week, I told my husband I might be able to write one more Darcy book. “What? But you need to write three more! Your readers want more!” Um…thanks. Lay that pressure right on me. (To be fair, he does help with the occasional plot twist.)
8. It’s great to write in the fall and winter, when it’s cold or windy or snowing outside, with a fire blazing away nearby and a hot mug of coffee or tea sitting at my elbow. But writing in the summer, stuck behind my desk when it’s gorgeous outside? Agony.
9. Missing out on so many television shows, films, and books. There are books on my Kindle I still haven’t read – Mad About the Boy, Jeeves and the Wedding Bells, The White Tiger – and TV shows I haven’t seen. Game of Thrones? Nope. Breaking Bad? Never seen it. House of Cards, The Walking Dead, The Mindy Project? Not one episode. Sigh. Oh well, they say television rots your brain, anyway.
10. My family doesn’t ‘get’ what I do. Oh, they’re supportive – mostly. They leave me alone when I’m closeted away writing. They know if I’m staring fixedly at the kitchen counter I’m actually miles away, plotting or working out a story problem in my head. They know that if I’m on a deadline, dinner will be McDonald’s or a toasted cheese sandwich and canned tomato soup. Or maybe frozen waffles.
But they really don’t understand the writing thing. I suspect they all secretly find me a bit…odd. How else to explain those photos of actors and models taped to the walls of my office, or the teetering stacks of British fashion magazines piled everywhere? (I’m not English and believe me, I’m not fashionable. But it’s research material. I swear.)
Anyway, those are a few of my not-favorite things about writing. Next time, I’ll list ten things I love about writing.
And it’ll be very hard to keep that list to only ten things.
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