It’s the first Wednesday of the month, which means it’s time for another action-packed installment of the Insecure Writers Support Group!
I’m assuming that everyone coming here is already well-versed in this group/bloghop, but in the event that you’re new and/or looking for a complete list of participants, please click on the above link.
This month’s (optional) question asks, “Of all the genres you read and write, which is your favorite to write in and why?“
But I’m going to pass on that question today because I am.
But I’m also not going to bore you with my insecurities. Which is not me saying I’m not insecure because I am. All the time. How could I not be when it takes me for-freaking-ever to write a story and then I hate everything I do manage to produce? I am in awe of authors who can not only finish a project before a decade or more has gone by and somehow find it in themselves to actually like what they’ve done. If you are one of those authors, how do you do it? I’m just so curious.
But again, I’m not going to talk about that (anymore) today. Because while I am hopelessly insecure and…well, just plain hopeless, I am also back in New England—this time to celebrate the high school graduations of my brilliant and talented goddaughter and niece. These two kick-ass young women are going to do some seriously amazing things with their lives, and they inspire me every day. I love them to death, and I hope they know how freaking proud of them I am.
And because I am back in New England, I get to do things like walk outside my house and not instantly dissolve in a puddle of sweat and more sweat (Y’all, I really can’t stress enough how much I truly despise living in Florida) and climb mountains.
That’s right. Yesterday, I climbed a mountain. It was glorious. My legs were a little “What the hell, man?” because there are very few mountains in Florida, and I am out of mountain-climbing practice (and shape…) but I reach the summit anyway and took this picture (which you may have already seen because I posted it all over social media yesterday. I mean, look at the sidebar. It’s the same damn picture in my twitter feed. But I love it and I can’t help myself):
I had a moment yesterday (not for the first time, either) where I was just so damn appreciative to be a writer who can really work wherever she happens to be—a mountain top, a beach, her living room, her mother’s living room, an airplane, whatever. And even if it does take me a million years (sadly, only a slight exaggeration…) to finish a novel, at least parts of it were written someplace pretty?
Then, of course, I left the mountains and the soul-crushing insecurities came rushing back. But that’s another post for another day…
Thanks for stopping by, everyone. Hope you’re having a fantastic week!
(Also, I may be slow to visit blogs and respond to any comments you may leave on this post. The Internet at my mom’s house is really kind of an unreliable pain-in-the-butt. However, I shall endeavor to do my best. Just don’t think I’m ignoring you. Thanks!)