It’s that wonderful time again, the first Wednesday in the month, Insecure Writer’s Support Group day, compliments of our very own fierce and noble Ninja Captain, Alex J. Cavennaugh. If you think this group sounds like a good place and you’d like to join, click here.
It’s a simple process:
“Post your thoughts on your own blog. Talk about your doubts and the fears you have conquered. Discuss your struggles and triumphs. Offer a word of encouragement for others who are struggling. Visit others in the group and connect with your fellow writer – aim for a dozen new people each time. Be sure to link to this page and display the badge in your post.”
Our Twitter hashtag is #IWSG
IWSG co-hosts this month are Julie Luek, Rachna Chabria, Beverly Fox, and Ilima Todd
Please stop by and thank them for their time and effort. Yay, Julie, Rachna, Beverly, and Ilima! You guys rock!
I’m excited and thrilled to announce we’ve created a new website for Insecure Writers Support Group. Lots of wonderful things are going to arise from this site, co-created by my fellow admins, in no particular order:
Ninja Captain Alex J. Cavanaugh
Lynda R. Young
Joy L. Campbell
L. Diane Wolfe
and me – Joylene Nowell Butler
We have a Facebook page HERE.
|Our own special banner!|
(drumroll, please) Check out the link for our INSECURE WRITERS SUPPORT GROUP‘s very own website!
Now for my post…
| Eden Robinson, Giller Prize nominee|
|Laura Robinson, award winning journalist|
|Daniela Elza, poet|
I attended the Rural Writers in Residence retreat this past weekend in Smithers. During a poetry workshop given by Daniela Elza
we had 5 minutes to answer the question: Why do I write?
After spending most of the time staring at the blank page, I finally wrote: Why do I write? I wish I could add something poetic and profound but in truth I write for the same reason I move, wake, breathe. I do all these so I can write. And I write so that tomorrow I may wake breathing.
Daniela then asked us, “What haunts you?”
Five minutes later I had written: One particular eagle flies by our window en-route to and from … I have no idea. The first time we made eye contact it was a fluke. Or maybe not? I was standing at the upstairs window in the right spot at the right moment. His eyes met mine. Maybe he saw me as a predator? I don’t think so. For three seconds our eyes locked and at once I sensed a familiarity, the belief that someone I knew was looking back at me. Since then when the leaves fall and the bare branches provide a clear line of sight, I wait for the eagle to glide past so that I may ask again and again, “Dad, is that you?”
In retrospect, my answers don’t surprise me. I’m lost if I don’t write. And if I can’t write, I’m doomed; like a child grieving for parents who can no longer keep the monsters at bay.
What does surprise me is I thought I had my fears under control. I joined IWSG to help others overcome theirs. Yet, I attend a retreat and–through no fault of anyone’s–suddenly my insecurities return with a vengeance. I was like a twisted pretzel, inspired by those around me yet thwarted by a sense of inadequacy. Who are you, Joylene, to be here among these gifted writers?
Since returning home I’ve been kinder to myself and my inner child. But having reared its ugly head, this feeling of ineptness has woke the monsters I was so certain were gone, and I’m left feeling wounded. Not a sensation I wanted to remember. Especially since I am a grownup. A writer. I have two published novels. A publisher. An award … .
I’d forgotten how easily it is to be my own worst enemy.
* Please return Sunday, October 6th when Phyllis in her column ASK PZM answers the following questions: