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By J.C. Lynne
I feel like a fraud. I'm finishing up V.E. Schwab's A Darker Shade of Magic and it's killing me.
If you haven't read it. Do it. Or maybe don't. It's the kind of book so wonderfully written that I have decided to give up writing.
I had the same feeling about The Night Circus. I gave up writing then too.
Sitting, even now, at my desk spilling these words onto the blank page, I'm feeling gross inadequacy at not having written a book as transcendent.
My daily life is mundane. Walk dogs. Make bed. Pick up dog pooh. Clean house. Plan menu. Somewhere in there write and market the books I've already published.
Fellow blogger, Jennifer Goble, recently wrote a similar themed post. (Author's note: this was already on my schedule so there.) Reminding us writing comes in all shapes and sizes. Rightfully so, there are several titles to remain unmentioned that I write circles around.
Chuck Palahnuik feels exactly the same way. Neil Gaiman frequently self deprecates. It's a writer's conundrum. Write like a god. Feel like a fraud. Palahnuik reminds us writers capture the necessary.
Humanity is one epic tale. The ending hasn't been written yet.
I'm not saying I don't have great stories in me. I love the books I've written. I'm deep into a dystopian trilogy I feel is particularly epic. That's the rub.
Writing is a progressive act. I look at stories I wrote decades ago with a completely different eye today. Some are tripe and some are pretty stunning.
Of course, my resignation from words won't last. I'm a writer.
I still have a third book to finish AND an audiobook to record AND a podcast to produce AND .... oh cripes, yes the laundry.