Not Daring to Hesitate

The 2011 Eckerd College Writer’s Conference and novel workshop is two weeks away but I find myself shamefully wishing it was later. More like two months away or next summer. As some of you know my novel manuscript was picked to win a 600 dollar scholarship to attend. http://writersinparadise.eckerd.edu/index.php?f=authors

 I thought I had no chance of getting noticed, but sent my samples in anyway. I even made a cheap bargain with myself. If I never heard from them, it would be okay to stop writing and if I did, then it was meant to be. But my manuscript was in and had won the scholarship so there was no turning back.

Once the initial euphoria evaporated, my lucky turn became a liability.  I began to feel the same way I used to when carrying my overstuffed backpack to the first day of school. The evil gnome perched over my left shoulder wouldn't stop whispering in my ear. Was my stuff really good enough? Would everyone hate me? Would the teacher be mean? Why did I really get picked? Maybe they had chosen my manuscript so they could point out what not to do when beginning a novel.

 Before you all gag from reading such indulgent, self-loathing talk, let’s make sure you understand how much I loved Bjork in her Swan dress. She was the artsy ingenue who had wandered into a Hollywood red carpet event wearing a tutu with a dead Swan around her neck .  I thought that was kind of brilliantly adorable, but soon realized I belonged in a tiny minority. My own writing seems to have the same love or hate appeal.

I often wonder about the amount of courage or mind altering substances that took for Bjork to wear that gratingly whimsical number. Walking into a writer’s workshop to hear bestselling professionals tear apart my apprentice novel beginning should not be a big deal. Bjork would have strutted around in her swan dress to the Eckerd Writer’s Conference without a care in the world.

The Blogfire of the Vanities

 At some point during the past two days I decided that I should become another aspiring writer with a blog. Yes, I  am that vain. Not only do I think Im good enough to write a 100,000 work of fiction that  people would  pay to read, but now I also think someone may want to read my daily musings about it.

 For someone whose often wondered if most  facebookers, tweeters, and bloggers are nothing else than lonely, attention-seeking creatures looking to gain adept minions in whatever adventure they believe to be part of, this is a new development. Or maybe I'm simply embracing the reality of being one more of many, rather than a different kind of one.

So, let's do it. My name is Rita. I'm thirty four. Working as a book translator. And would like to become a published writer.

Okay, maybe that sounds a little pathetic, there is a bit more to it than that. I have a finished draft for a women's fiction novel temptatively titled, Tourdancer which has recently won me a scholarship to participate in the 2011 Eckerd College Writers in Paradise Conference and have my manuscript be part of a professional workshop with novelist Anne Hood in Tampa, Florida.

This would be not my very first, but a definite introduction into the world of what it takes to become a "real fiction writer" and I expect some interesting drama ahead which I hope can turn into nice fodder for this blog. If that fails, I can always rely on my fascinating musings about pop culture, things I like, and even deeper subjects, like the meaning of life.

After all -and personal vanity aside- who wouldn't want to read about that?