The Virginal Novelist

Every writer has experienced it. The first time. The anticipation. The fear. The butterflies. The desire. The disregard of consequence.

Yep, you guessed it. I’m writing my first novel. I have a million ideas, with not a clue as to how to begin. I know I need my trusty outlines to structure out my settings, plots, and characters. It’s just the anticipation of “it”. Of doing “it”. Of creating something out of nothing. Well, not “nothing”, but nothing tangible. The fear of not doing “it” right or being judged for my lack of experience. Just as with a sexual experience, every writer desires to write that first sentence. As I begin to plan out and write my first novel, I anticipate, fear and excitedly welcome the popping of my “proverbial” cherry.

I look toward my veteran writers for any wisdom that you would like to share with me as I loose my literary virginity!


Read me, but don’t judge me.

On my third day of journal writing, I have decided to ditch the journal along with the advice of the writing gurus and just write.

So here it is.

I am getting ready to embark on writing a novel and as I had absolutely not the foggiest on how to begin, I am slowly begin to develop a game plan. I think.

And as this process formulates within me, I am still dealing with this immense fear of sharing my writing with others. Why? I don’t know. Maybe I don’t want to share my private thoughts. Maybe I don’t want to be criticized. So why the hell am I writing a blog and have aspirations of writing a novel? Because I want to be heard.

I’m just scared to death to do it.

Where is the damn light?!!!


Today is my official second day of keeping a journal entry. The extra writing practice is said to help me become a successful published author one day.  That “one day” at this point is not even close to the proverbial “light at the end of the tunnel”.

 I haven’t found the tunnel yet, let alone the light.

This is characteristic of my life- wandering aimlessly towards an unknown destination for the entirety of my life. I know that I want to get there, but I simply do not know where “that” is. My journey towards the tunnel is like making a journey from Los Angeles to New York City dragging my 34 years of baggage behind me (which equal at least 25 suitcases and not the ones with the wheels either).

As I trek across the desert with my lifelong baggage, the sun blares her eternal heat on me in hundreds of judgmental rays that each have an own voice. These voices each belong to a different critic in my childhood and adulthood. As my music blares from my headset to block out the voices, I continue on my trek with all the sweat and tears (hopefully no blood barring any mishaps) to my tunnel.

I am now in that place on my journey.

I am not new to writing in general. I felt that I have always had a gift for it, or maybe it just was the best way that I was able to communicate. I was always a quiet child and when I did talk, I typically was a nervous wreck and stuttered my way through a sentence. Writing allowed me to communicate comfortably.

Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this. I am still getting used to the idea that someone actually wants to read my writing, let alone find it interesting.

Handle with Care

One of my lifelong goals has to become a known writer, possibly published one day. So at 34 years of age, I am making that leap into the world. I am new to the blog world, so I am going to get my feet wet with posting some of my first journal entry writings and go from there!! I look forward to meeting  great people with similar goals and interests!

So, this is the beginning of my writing journal. I have been instructed to keep one from the collective self-claimed wisdom of the internet to become a successful beginning writer. I suppose as to an unsuccessful beginning writer in which no one reads my writing or feels it is particularly worthy of being read.  My fear of writing is to reach into your body, grasp onto your soul, outreach your hand to a stranger to take it, love it and cherish it as you have.

These strangers simply look at your writing, the soul of you, and say “Eh, no thanks” and walk away.

That would be the singular reason why I am terrified to begin this journey and thus why I have waited the better part of 15 years to begin my writing career.

Which leads to the question,” Why does oneself write? Is it to be heard or is it to hear oneself?”

Hmm, damn, that was quite insightful. Maybe I am working my way up to one of the self-claimed writing internet gods that I so diligently follow! Consequently, I am beginning to feel the “flow” of creativeness starting so maybe I need to stop being facetious and start respecting those opinions of others. They have at least been able to transfer their thoughts into writing while mine are still buried in my mind under years of self-doubt and fear of judgment.