Let’s face it – there are times when we all need help. If you have water spurting out under your sink you call a plumber. If the lights go out and won’t come back on again, you call the electrician. If you’ve got this funny rash that seems to be spreading … well you get my drift.
For worried writers the ‘go to’ place is the Insecure Writer’s Support Group [website and sign up here] which was started and is administered by best selling author Alex J Cavanaugh. The first Wednesday of each month is the day upon which writers in every and any genre and at any level of expertise can let their hair down and have a legitimate gripe about anything that is worrying them.
Worries that are stifled, that aren’t voiced, that are kept secret, have a horrible habit of both growing and attracting companions. And then – oh, then the nasty ratbags have an absolute orgy and breed like lemmings until the poor writer’s brain is buzzing night and day with concerns that pushes them closer and closer to the cliff edge of giving up writing and concentrating on cost accountancy or shelving tins of beans in Tescos. Or, in my case, last months sales figures.
Bitching about your creative worries is healthy but can get a bit tedious for the readers, so restricting it to one day a month is a jolly good idea! This is the day, guys, and this is your warning that there’s some whining under the cut!
At the moment I’m worrying about marketing On A Lee Shore. What I would really like to do is concentrate on building my backlist. I’ve been trained since birth not to show off, never to be conceited enough to tell anyone that I’ve done something that I think is good, not to push myself forward ahead of anyone else, and so have a visceral revulsion when trying to sell my work. A backlist of quality fiction is almost as good, I figure, as a charming and confident marketing style.
BUT – and this is the big worry – since my partner retired and is around the house 24/7, I’m not getting the peace and quiet I need to write. He worked for 40 years in a constant babble of noise and finds the silence, which I need to be able to concentrate, disturbing and uncomfortable. TV is on downstairs, Radio 4 is on in the shed, study, kitchen and bedroom, and if he finds himself somewhere where he can’t hear any of those he talks to himself.
So what to do?
My allergy to promotion? I figure that the habits of 50+ years are a bit too hard to break so I’ll do the things I can cope with and hope that the publisher deems it enough.
Home environment? 🙂 sorted! I bought an industrial quantity of earplugs on Ebay and hope they do the trick.