The only thing that really matters

Hey,

I’m looking at my calendar right now.

It’s February 7, 12:05 P.M. here in cloudy Vancouver, Canada. That means I’ve little more than 3 weeks left to get the next brand-new story delivered in your inbox.

I’m a slow writer. Three weeks don’t sound like an awful lot to me.

Too bad this time I have to stick to a schedule.

I started my 12X2020 challenge (read here if you want to know more) because I wanted to get my words out there, I wanted to listen to the effect these words have on people, and I wanted to learn what I’m doing right and what I’m doing wrong when it comes to the subtle art of storytelling.

It took me years to understand this simple lesson: You can’t learn how you write if you don’t show what you write.

Tough shit. It cost me a lot.

A couple of days ago, somebody asked me this question: ‘What were some of the hurdles you faced when entering into the self-publishing game?’

I knew the answer to that question straight away, but I found myself afraid to write it. I was scared because I knew it was the right one, and it exposed me.

It said a lot about myself.

Of all the hurdles, ‘Perfectionism’ is hands down the worst. It just makes all the rest seem insignificant. Perfectionism is just another word for ‘procrastination’. That’s the biggest challenge I personally had to face and that quite honestly, I’m still facing.

Why is that?

Because when you are both the writer and the publisher of a book, you are both the judge and the jury. You get to decide which story to present to the world. You realize you have a lot of power, and that is a scary realization.

What if you write shitty books?

What if people don’t like them?

What if you re-read your writing, and you think a fifth-grader could have written better stuff?

Worse yet. What if people ignore you altogether?

And then it happens.

You start telling yourself a story, and slowly you start believing it.

Suddenly, you think you better read that paragraph once more. More closely, this time. And that semicolon should really be a colon. Or maybe not. Maybe it’s a full stop.

The story you decided to believe becomes poison.

Next thing you know, you’ve just spent ten hours rewriting the same paragraph over and over again. Procrastination got the better of you, and your resistance just won another battle.

You feel like shit.

Ten hours is a lot of time. Maybe you just killed a short story, possibly a novella. Who knows how many characters could have escaped in that timeframe from your pen? Who knows how many ideas you wiped out of existence by merely not putting them down?

I’m following a different North Star this time.

I’m traveling on a boat I’ve just built, and I’ve no idea where the current is bringing me. This boat is so small and so frail, you wouldn’t use it to cross a narrow river.

I’m using it to travel an ocean.

Am I bold? Am I crazy? I don’t know. Honestly, I’m just really scared right now. I’ve never written 12 stories in one year. I’ve never made myself accountable to you.

The other shore is far away.

The boat might sink.

I might drown.

Or maybe I’ll learn how to sail, as I sail.

Maybe I’ll build a stronger boat as the winds carry me. Maybe It’ll become a wooden first-rate two-decked ship. Who knows?

Every story I’m writing is teaching me a lesson. And it’s reminding me what matters.

The whole damn point is not to make my stories perfect. The point is to write them down and ship them. Period.

The rest is up to you.

P.S. if you’ve read ‘Glass Into Steel,’ (the first story of my 12X2020 challenge), I’d love to know what you thought of it. Just fire me an email, and I’ll make sure to read it and answer as quickly as possible.

If you haven’t read it yet, the Ebook is free, and you can find it below.

See you on the other shore.

Until the next story,

Michele