Gahhhh! (err...Writing is Hard)

I am a spoiled brat. 

I really am.  When it comes to writing, it's always come pretty easy to me.  I've been writing excessively since I was about nine years old.  I've been writing novels since I was about twelve.  And I've been submitting novels since I was fourteen. 

So, okay, clearly the submitting thing was not so charmed, but I fully acknowledge I wasn't remotely prepared for that.  And all I really cared about was the writing part.  And it was so easy.  I have hundreds--not exaggerating here--of notebooks from the past fifteen years filled with story after story after story.  The words were always there for me, the stories came easily, and when they didn't, I switched gears to another story that caught my attention. 

Now, going to college and grad school and reading abundantly and really focusing on what I wanted my work to be and become was challenging, but it always felt like fun rather than grueling.  The stories became better, fuller, more precise and sweeping at the same time.  I changed tracks from really writing whatever the hell was in my head to communicating a vision into a medium that someone else could share, an experience that could be translated into someone else's experience. 

FYI, I think that's the mistake most writers make when we start.  We don't realize how our writing sounds from another person's perspective, and it takes a long time to develop that detachment.  And, since you're still trying to communicate your internal thoughts, it's not always so smooth. 

Anyway, the point is, it's been pretty easy.  Hell, I wrote Scarlet in three months and I felt like I had blacked out during it--the words poured onto the page so fast and fluidly that I almost felt like I didn't know where they came from. 

oh god.  so. not. true. anymore. 

For the past year I've been wrestling with this book that I'm writing now; hemming and hawing and going back to it and running away from it.  it's the most emotional thing i've ever written; its the most invested i've ever been. 

i always thought that people were crazy when they said write what you know; I mean, you know that--why bother?  I always wanted to write what I didn't know.  I wanted to use writing to explore, to feel, to experience things that I hadn't. 

You know, like lusting after Robin Hood.  And throwing knives.  Obvi. 

But at the same time, writing IS how I feel, and explore, and experience.  It's the lens through which I view my own world, and there were things I just never wanted to write about.  I didn't want to process them. 

It may just be that the things that are hardest to write are the most important.  The most necessary.  Because even as a 26 year old adult, I feel like, with this novel, I'm discovering a voice I had no idea was there.  And pain that I knew was in there somewhere, but I didn't really know what it was about.  And hurt that I couldn't express.  And love that was so incredibly complicated, but unimaginably deep. 

So let's just put it this way; the spoiled brat has hung up her spurs.