Sometimes, when I’m really stuck, I can use music to drag me out of the rut. This can be a writing mire, a fitness speed bump, or simply reaching an emotional cap on a bad day. When I’m desperate to prove my standing theory that there is no Writer’s Block, only excuses, I’ll pick a song and write about it, or to it, or through it.
The title quote is from Liar by Dar Williams. It is a song about a girl who goes to great lengths to drag herself up from the lower rungs of society to attend a quality school in a snooty neighborhood. She never talks about where she’s from, but they know she’s a liar simply by being there.
This won’t be a lecture on societal boundaries and other such nonsense. I have rich friends and I have poor friends. If someone – anyone – wants to better themselves, then I will encourage that, whether it be health, schooling, or chasing after that long lost dream. Like writing.
On days when the writing is more difficult, I feel like the liar of that song. I feel like the wannabe, the noob, the hopeful, but unlikely child of poverty first in a long line of family to earn her way into college and a better life. I’m none of those, but on days the words are a dark struggle instead of a flowing song of the soul are days of doubt. It doesn’t win, but it does visit, that jester that keeps us humble.
Even with my first story being published in just over a month, I still look at published authors and think, “I’m not there, but I want to be some day.” I have one offer, while he’s publishing several a year. I have one still being prepped and edited, while she’s just signed with one of the elite of our genre. I doubt next month’s release because I’m certain it’s not good enough for the hungry fans of queer fiction. I don’t belong. I am a liar.
Then, I realize I’m crying through my edits because I brought my characters to the brink of despair. And tears remain in my eyes as I finish approving my editor’s changes because those characters have learned and grown and found their happily ever after. Or, at least, a happy for now, which much better suits this crazy author.
Will everyone love my writing? Oh, hell no. Will some? Many even? I think so. I hope so. I have to have some amount of belief to send the darn thing out to publishers in the first place. Right? Right. So does the publisher. This costs money – editing, cover art, ISBN registration, etc – it all costs money, and the publisher wouldn’t offer if he didn’t think he could make that back, plus some.
Have faith, dear liar. You do belong here, even if you can’t see it yet.
(Title Credit: Liar, by Dar Williams)