Inner Struggle

Breaking news: I’m writing again!

Ok, so I never stopped, except as far you the reader can tell.

If a writer writes alone in the woods, does he have a voice? Thoreau would argue yes, and then drown me beneath the Walden waters.  Yeah, little known Thoreau fact: He had a mean streak. No really, he was admired for his naked pond prance before running into the water for a match of splashy-splashy. Mean streaking aside, Thoreau was also rather idealistic and seemed to believe thoughtful action for having purpose. 

My thoughtful quiet writing actions have had purpose. That appeases my inner Thoreau. I’m writing a young adult novel.  It takes up most of my time.  It’s gonna take up a lot more too, I’m only on chapter 2. That means little time for naked splashy-splashy. Thoreau isn’t so happy with that.

Still, I like what I’ve written.  It just takes a lot of refinement to get where I like it. 

I once saw an interview with Nile Rogers. During the 80’s, he talked with Madonna about producing her “Like a Virgin” album. She played him a demo of the title track and told him he had to like it if he wanted to work with her. She was that convinced that the song was a hit. Nile wasn’t as convinced, but he said later that he knew that the song would be a hit when he was done with it.

So sitting in my Starbucks tapping out a day’s work, I’m a little bit Niles and a little bit Madonna. I know that I’m working on something good, and I also know that it will be really good when I’m done with it.

Unfortunately my inner Madonna doesn’t have the real Madonna’s checking account or unlimited resources. I’ve got me, and my Pirate Queen fan base. I don’t have the ear of top producers or publishers telling me, “This won’t work, try this.” I’ve got a writers’ group of people just like me: just as convinced of their unique voice to tell the tale that only they can tell.

My inner Niles isn’t as convinced. My inner Niles says that the story is solid, and it will be fantastic when I’ve shaped it into the glorious golden work he has planned. 

And then there’s my inner critic.  He’s seen two other books come and go from head to paper with nothing to show for it but black ink on white paper. “What’s the difference?” He says.  He’s seen Madonna and Niles collaborate before, and hasn’t found the results impressive—at least not in terms of sales.

Over the years, I’ve belonged to and led several writers groups.  I’ve seen proud writers bounce in with their new babies, and I’ve seen other writers tear those ugly babies to shreds.  I’ve seen blind parents leave in blind rage, never to return because they’re too proud to see, and I worry.  Not about them.  I’m far to self-centered for that. Besides, they’ll be fine. They have an ugly baby to keep them warm.

I worry about me.

Am I the proud parent of an ugly baby too?

See I can’t take everything everybody else says as law. This is a peer group. This isn’t an agent or publisher telling me what they will or won’t buy. I have to have confidence. 

I don’t know. My inner Madonna is suckerpuncking my sickened ego for even suggesting an ugly baby, right now.  I feel sorry for my ego: it’s not his fault. He didn’t ask the question.

See, I see those other proud parents and I worry because they don’t see the ugly. If I’m going to succeed, I need to see the ugly, so I can change it. 

As a parent, if your son steals, you need to know it. Not because he’s a bad kid and you need to hide your jewelry. You need to know it so you can correct his ugly actions. You need to see what’s wrong with your children so you can make them better. You also need to see what’s right with your children and embrace that.

“Last night you stole the neighbors car without setting off the alarm.  Good job.”

The important thing isn’t necessarily your child, but your vision. Can you see? Do you know the difference between good and bad?

I used to believe Madonna did, she just chose whichever course gave her what she wanted. I’ve heard Madonna’s latest CD. I’m not so sure I believe anymore. And if I can’t believe in the real Madonna, what does that say about my inner Madonna?

“Rob, that torpedo tip bra looks marvelous!”

Right now my ego is suckerpunching back.

This is where my inner Thoreau comes back out and reminds me of the focus.

And my psychiatrist offers me and my inner voices a nice quiet place to finish my book.