Here’s the thing about writing: everyone starts at the bottom. Some work their way up to the middle. A select few manage to climb to the very top. That’s how it is with any profession. You have no idea what you’re doing. You start to figure it out. At some point you probably come to a crossroads, where you decide how much of a priority you want writing to be in your life. Do you want to advance – or are you happy at the level you stand on now?
To move from the very bottom to the very top – a beginner, all the way to a expert – every writer moves through a series of phases. Like riding a bike, they start out wobbly and terrified. They start to get the hang of it. Maybe eventually they start teaching other people how to ride bikes. It’s a process. A long, frustrating process.
How does this work? Let’s break down the phases, starting with the copycat phase.
(Excerpt from Meg Dowell’s post on A writers’ path- Read more)
For many years writing has allowed me to support myself financially, but most importantly writing had stirred my soul and made my entire life more meaningful. With Spring’s “Rebirth” energy I get excited about sowing new seeds for the next phase of my creative work so I can feel that I am living up to my potential as an artistic person.
After 17 years of writing nostalgia columns I am enthusiastic about exploring fresh themes and developing innovative topics. For one thing writing about the past too much can keep me locked in my history and sometimes prevents me from moving forward into a more satisfying future. Ultimately my intention is to live in the present while sharing ideas and implementing strategies for generating a fulfilling life.
(Excerpt from Alexsandra Lett’s post in The Daily Record- Read more)
Truly inspired creative projects have a strange kind of “magic” to them. You might not realise that you’re making something that you’ll always remember fondly when you’re actually making it. But, after you’ve finished one of these amazing, inspired creative projects, then you can sometimes feel a sense of loss. A sense of forlorn nostalgia for the time when you were still making it.
It’s a sense that there was a beautiful moment, but now it has passed into the mists of time. There’s a sense that if you made the same project again, you wouldn’t quite be able to recapture the same sense of fascination, joy and effortless inspiration that you felt when you made it for the first time.
So, how do you deal with this feeling of loss? Here are a few tips:
(Excerpt from Theryan Lantz’s article in A Writer’s Path)
So you wrote a book.
And it’s truly a thing of beauty.
Prose polished to perfection, you’ve lovingly crafted your masterpiece in the stolen moments around an impossible schedule.
You’ve commissioned the most beguiling of covers, invested in an ace editor and painstakingly tweaked the interior formatting to ensure the delicate sensibilities of your reader will not be unexpectedly jarred by a rogue font pairing or flubbed folios.
Time to share your creation with the world.
Time to receive the glowing appraisals and positive feedback from your appreciative fans and the top book reviewers in the industry.
But hold up a minute. You know your book is the cutest, smartest, most precocious book in the world–obviously–but, how will top reviewers or your adoring fans know, unless they read it? And how will they know to read it, if there are currently no reviews encouraging them to do so?
Gnarly catch 22.
How on earth do you get reviews for your book (so you can sell more books, so you can get more reviews to sell more books)?
(Excerpt from Kimberly Grabas’s post- read more)