S. McPherson's Blog: On my way to being a writer, page 2

Carried Away

Unruly waves fling themselves at my ship. Rain barrels down from the sky and lightning meets the sea in a jagged electric blaze. The harsh slap of the wind stings my lips and smothers them in liquid salt. I watch the wheel spin; veering this way and that. Somewhere along my travels, I have taken the wrong course.

Scrabbling in my pocket, I pull out my compass and realise that the arrow is pointing North, away from the storm and towards my first true love; novels. It is time to go back.

‘Land ho!’ I cry as I steer the boat in another direction.

It isn’t long before I am carried away on the current of my imagination. Diving in and out of waves of fantasy; words flooding my mind like the tumultuous crests of high tide on the shore.

Forever a hopeless romantic and a vivid dreamer of the unbelievable, my route is clear. There is only one channel for my tale to take; a fantasy romance one. I stand on the mast of my stories ship, telescope in hand. Perhaps on the lookout for a romance I can never find; I start to invent one.

And so my voyage begins again…

Life's Song

Another blog that never saw the light of day, was the one I called 'Life's Song'. The first and only installment was this:

I never shy away from the mundane; from the monotonous rhythm of the everyday life. I welcome its verse. I memorise its chorus. Wake my dear, work my dear, eat my dear, sleep my dear. It serenades me like a cumbersome lullaby and sometimes I'm half tempted to oblige. Go to sleep princess and await the arrival of your handsome prince. But what good is that? How does sleeping through your life constitute as living? Well, it doesn't! Now I'm not saying I wouldn't want a prince charming! Let's not get ahead of ourselves! But that doesn't mean I don't quite fancy being my own hero too.

I find that setting myself goals can help and so I write a list. And with that list, I make a promise to myself that when the repetitious humdrum of a life less lived beckons me into what it believes is sweet slumber- I won't fall asleep! Instead I will write my lists; my set of lyrics that allow me to dance and sing along to the burgeoning melody of life's song.

Please keep checking back to see how and if I manage to change the beat of my existence.

And that was all...

Blog Untold

My first attempt at something different was to start a blog but I didn't really know what to write about. One of my ideas was a blog of original quotes so I gave it a try:



'I sometimes think that love is like magic; beautiful to believe in but impossible to know if it really exists.' - S. McPherson



'Sticks and stones may break my bones and one day they will heal, but words you say will stay with me and forever make me feel.' - S. McPherson



'Without hope, we are without reason.' - S. McPherson



'Experience the world from as many different angles as you can. See it through as many different eyes.' - S. McPherson



'You can only look at what's on the outside for so long, then you need to start looking within.' - S. McPherson



'A world without laughter would be unbearable.' -S. McPherson



'When you reach a fork in the road, simply close your eyes and point.' - S.McPherson



'Without passion, we are without purpose.' - S. McPherson

For a while my original quotes blog was fun but I didn't get much further than that.

Plot Twist

For a while I was content; convinced that this time would be different, that I'd learnt from my mistakes. This time I would make sure the images were clearer and that the text was easier to read. I would talk to all the right people and I'd appear in all the right magazines.

The journey officially restarted and I was ready for the hike. But, somewhere along this metaphorical road, I came across a crooked sign and written on it were the words of Henry Ford: 'If you always do what you've always done, you will always get what you've always got.' That's when I realised that this time wasn't going to be any different at all because I wasn't actually doing anything different.

That was when I took a step back and decided to enter a new chapter of my life. Here I introduced a much-needed plot twist. Things were certainly going to be different this time!

Just Keep Swimming

My first self-published book was about perseverance and after it's mini success, persevere I did. I accepted that it wasn't as good as it could be; no, should be, and I began working on the next books in the series; 'Thomas Clay wanted to Play' and 'Emma Creet wanted a sweet'. For Thomas, I hired an illustrator and for Emma, I decided to draw them myself.

Meanwhile I was also getting my own illustrations for the first book revamped so I could remove the work of "The Tool" once and for all. I didn't know my plan for these books or if I'd follow the same routes I previously had, but I knew I wasn't going to stop.

So to quote my favourite animated fish since Little Mermaid, I just kept swimming, further and further out into uncharted waters.

Book Fails

Oops! Did I call this post, 'Book Fails'? Of course I meant 'Book Sales'. All ten of them in a fifteen hour day; sat outside, squinting in the sun, baring my teeth and trying to wipe away the sweat, smothering myself in perfume disguised as sunblock.

Obviously, I was thankful for every book sold and when combined with the internet sales, I was doing quite well. But to me, "well" is never well enough.

I stuck it out for as long as I could but eventually my enthusiasm to have a numb backside at yet another book fair waned thin. The rose-coloured glasses came off and some much needed clarity came into view. Something had to change...

Short-lived Success

I came...I saw...I deluded myself. With illustrations so pixel-ated it was like trying to see through shattered glass and with alluring curvy text that was actually impractical for reading, I set about promoting my book to anyone who would listen.

My blind belief paid off (temporarily) leading to book signings, readings and appearances in magazines. It seemed like the pieces of this self-publishing puzzle were finally slotting into place and working in a nursery was the last little bit. It granted me access to a vast audience to sell to and word naturally spread from there.

It was great!

And I lived happily ever after...

on my own island...

in Tahiti!!

The tool

1 dash of innocence
2 cups of hopeful
1 tablespoon of insanity
1 KG of creativity
1 bucket-load of drawings

This was my recipe for self-publishing my first children's story. I started with the bucket-load; the longest but possibly most fun process after writing. First I drew them. Then I photocopied them. Then I coloured them. Then I scanned them. Then I decided I didn't like the colours I'd chosen (because why not make life more difficult?) so I did it again and again and again.

Finally I realised that the look I wanted, I didn't quite know how to get, so I went on a mission to find someone to digitally edit my images. Let's call this someone, The Tool; the thing I used to get the job done. The Tool digitally remade my images, slapped on a hefty fee and voila, they were ready to go; or so I thought. Hindsight is always 20/20.

Sound the alarm

I was on strike! Burn the pages! Smudge the ink! Forget writing! I like to teach and I'm good at it, so there! The End... The end? Not likely. As you may have guessed, my childish outburst was short-lived. Though I tried to ignore it, the heart wants what the heart wants and mine was filling my mind with flashes of dragons, elves and talking frogs.

My classroom book selection was growing old so one day after we'd read Julia Donaldson's 'The Gruffalo' more times than I can count, I decided to launch into my own made-up tale.

My story, teaching the importance of perseverance, told of a little girl who was being kept awake by her partying pet fish. Random? Yes. But since children's minds are as nonsensical as mine, it was very well received. Their positive reaction inspired me to dabble in the field of self-publishing. Now, queue 'Jaws' two syllable soundtrack.

Easy

Now comes the time to rewrite; a task much easier said than actually done. I sit down and stare mindlessly at my computer feeling as if I'm trying to make sense of a Picasso painting, solve the Da Vinci code or find the 27th letter of the alphabet.

Needless to say, I encounter a few hiccups; great hefty ones that send me flying off my seat and smack my head into the ceiling. How do I rewrite my novel 30,000 words shorter? What 30,000 words are irrelevant? Taking a deep breath, I roll up my sleeves and decide to give it a shot. I'm not going to lie.... it doesn't end well...