When I moved to Vienna, Austria almost four years ago, the voices became eerily quiet. For those of you who aren’t writers, the voices we hear are frequently those of our characters or in some cases the narrator of our books. I figured it was time for me to have a break as I’d been hearing them for many, many years. Matter of fact, since I was twelve and I can’t tell you the number of times when they would be chattering in my head and I’d be answering them right back. I’d get the strange looks and blush furiously when I was younger. Then as I got older, I would either explain what was happening or I’d just smile and shrug, leaving people to figure it out themselves.
It’s a wonder that I was never told to shut up or talked to by a therapist or psychiatrist for those voices. Yes, those voices have told me they wanted to kill someone. I even had a villain do it once in my head while I was in public and I can only imagine what the expressions were on my face as I talked and wrote that one down in the local library. And it wasn’t until they stopped talking to me that I really understood the term writer’s block. But in my opinion, it wasn’t that I was blocked, it was they had stopped talking.
For the past three years, I would come into my office and sit down like I’d done every day for the past fifteen years. If I was lucky, I would clunk out five hundred to a thousand words and be happy with that even though I normally had written about five thousand words a day before my move. Those words felt forced and many were written without the characters yapping away at me. Yet, I had stories to write and worlds to build. I could not wait until I was in the mood.
Writing is what I do for a living. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do. I’d learned more about the publishing business in the last twenty years so there wouldn’t be any surprises. I couldn’t nor wouldn’t give it up because they weren’t talking to me. I couldn’t afford to and this is a fallacy that many writers fall into, but it’s one that we all need to get over.
There are things that can be done where the characters don’t need to talk to you. Things like research, world building and blogs. Planning also falls under these auspices and so, I did those things when there was nothing else. I did things like start a group for sharing the promotions burden that every author has since I really feel each of us needs to care and nurture each other.
I listened to music, created play lists and blogs and series and did more research to the point I was almost getting hopeless. But the fact is writers write. They write when the weather is good, when it’s bad, when they feel good, when they feel bad and real writers come in and do it even when they think they can’t. Yes, it may seem forced and it may seem like you’re just going through the motions but those are the motions of being a writer.
However wrong this may seem, if you are plugging away every day, your confidence will start to build and will continue to do so. Sometimes, all that is needed for you to hear those voices is to regain your confidence. Sometimes it may just be the stress from every day living. Sometimes, it can be the stress from things you can’t control. For me, it was a little bit of everything.
I was living far away from my family. Things could go wrong. They did go wrong. And I had to realize that sometimes I couldn’t shape the world to be exactly how I wanted it to be. Sometimes, I had to accept it as it was. So, until that day, I decided I would do what I always loved to do, whether I had to force it or have an amazing moment where I would write. I needed to go through the motions and know that my time would come again.
Then one day came a drab and I wrote a little more about my characters. Then it was just a little tinkle, then it was flowing. And I knew I had a gusher the night I told my husband to go back to sleep because I was going to the office. The next morning he asked me why and I had to honestly say that they wouldn’t shut up. He gave a chuckle, knowing I was finally back and writing as much as my fingers would type daily. It had been a long time coming.
Now, I’m carrying a notebook in my purse again so I don’t overwhelm my poor little Note3 phone with all the written words for stories. I’m waking up early, falling asleep in my chair and talking with my characters in such a way that I’m sure people are going to ask if need help since I’m talking to myself a lot in public recently. I guess the trouble really comes about when I answer myself. And yes, I do have a story about that one for another time.
Until then, I’d love to hear from you about what you’d say if you saw one of your favorite authors talking to themselves. Would you ask what they were talking about? Or would you sit quietly and observe them to see if you could glean something about a new story? I can’t wait to hear from you! And to show you all some love, I’m doing a give-away today and picking one person randomly to give them a book from my back list or my upcoming April release, Night of the Blue Moon. Hope to talk to you all soon!
Night of the Blue Moon
April 1st Pre-order at Amazon, Smashwords and more.
April 15th Release at all eBook vendors.
This is book 4 in the Blue Moon Magic series.
Blue Moon Magic
One incredible story about that special night which changes them all. Forever.
All his life he felt he hadn’t belonged but it wasn’t until Clarity Langford appeared did he know the truth of it. Once that truth was revealed there was no going back for Connor Angus, only forward. He discovers he is the long thought dead son of pack Elite leader, Charles Langford. And with that knowledge comes a family full of sisters, mystery and longing for things he’s not sure he has any right to obtain and one of those things is Cordelia Sinclair.
NOTE: This is a NOVELLA with adult situations and language. It is not intended for those under 18 years of age.
Who are you?
The voice was loud and clear. There was no mistaking that he had a telepathic link to this woman. More confused than ever, he shook his head. My name is Connor Logan Angus.
But you can’t be one of them.
I am a member of the Beta clan. I am the third son.
That can’t be.
And why not?
Can you link with them like you are with me?
I don’t know. I’ve never tried.
Whether you know it or not, I do.
Only those of the same clan or family members can link. I’m an Elite. So what does that make you?
Connor sank back into the shadows even more. That sick feeling he had been having recently floated to the top again. That’s impossible. There’s no way I can be part of your clan. I don’t understand any of this.
That makes two of us.
Bio: Award winning author Lynn Crain has done it all in her life. From nursing to geology, her life experiences have added to her detail rich stories. She loves writing full time as she weaves contemporary, fantasy, futuristic and paranormal tales, tame to erotic, for various publishers. Her home is in the desert southwest though her latest adventure has taken her to Vienna, Austria with her husband of many years as he works his dream job. You can find her on the web at www.lynncrain.blogspot.com. She loves hearing from her readers at firstname.lastname@example.org.