that question.

It's that question I dread. "So--what's your novel about?" It's a huge problem when you write litfic. "Oh, it's about a relationship where two people bear witness to each other's self destruction." "It's a novel analysing the different impacts of similar events, and how we're drawn to those who have experiences similar to our own." My mother (my actual-gave-birth-to-me-mother) worries about what people will think of her if they read my novels. Thanks, mum.

Writing is about the most vulnerable parts of who you are. Each word on that word processor (or paper, if you're more awesome than I am) is you. And I don't think that I'm ready for criticism about that yet. (Nor is my manuscript ready--the first draft is almost complete. It's a matter of completing all the missing scenes and then sitting down and rewriting them all and fixing plot arcs and oh my god I'm going to die.)

I did tell my classmates the other day vaguely what one of my novels was about, only to tell them that they couldn't read it quite yet. But it's nice having people around that encourage you to write. Who believe in you. And I don't think that I could do this without them. So, for everyone who supports a writer, this is for you. (virtual champagne toasting here.)

measuring up.

One of my issues as a writer is the fear that I'm never going to be good enough. That nothing I write is ever going to be PERFECT, and if it's not perfect, what's the point? And that fear is paralysing. It eats up my motivation and desire and tells me "YOU'RE NOT AN AUTHOR. YOU'RE A PHONEY. A PRETENDER" and makes me want to crawl under a rock and sleep. Or re-read A Moveable Feast by Hemingway. And by re-read, I mean read the parts where he talks about meeting Fitzgerald. OH, YOU SO CRAZY, FRANCES SCOTT.

Let's count the ways in which I'm going to literary hell.

But I guess insecurity is the curse of writing. In the very process of putting words onto our screens, we're letting ourselves be vulnerable. This is our creation. This is something from our minds which shows who we are. There'll always be a part of ourselves in our stories, and it's hard to dissociate the fear of rejection of our stories from the notion that they're really rejecting us.

Par exemple, le jour d'autre. I was asking X (okay, I'm going to be honest with y'all: you're going to be hearing about X a lot. He's on my mind all the time. It's pathetic.) to come with me to a charity function, and he said no. Now, he didn't say no, Jessica, I'm turning you down because you're an obsessive-psycho-stalker-freak. He said no, I have to organise job interviews and I'm really busy, but let me know for the next one?

I still obsessed over every little detail of it more than is probably healthy. But my point is this: we're all afraid of rejection because writing is so incredibly INTIMATE. Writing is something that defines who we are as people. And let me tell you, writers are pretty damn AWESOME. En fait, I'd even say that we're LEGEN--wait for it--DARY.

Don't be afraid that you don't measure up, or that you're not good enough, whether it be as a writer or as a person, because, even though it sounds completely NAFF, you do. You've put pen to paper and you've created something, and that's more than most people will ever acheive.

the perfect pen.

So, I was hanging out in my bedroom last night (read: trying to sleep) when suddenly, blog ideas decided that they wanted to creep into my head because they're mean and cruel and want me to go crazy from insomnia and do a Fight Club on everyone. AND WE ALL KNOW HOW THAT ENDED. (Actually, I only know how the movie version ends. I haven't read the book--but I'm going to! ...when I get through my TBR pile.)

Naturally, I grab my "great ideas" pad and the closest pen (which was courtesy of UNSW. This will explain a lot.) and start scrawling down every one of the insane thoughts throttling my mind. And the pen refuses to work. Well, it works. It just refuses to work on this particular sheet of paper. (UNSW knows that I'm not one of them. And yes, my pen is just *that* clever.)

As a writer, how important is the perfect pen for you? Even in our modern age with our newfangled technology (okay, so I'm twenty and probably should try and act my age. Psht, being young is overrated.), I still use pen and paper for planning and brainstorming and writing notes to myself, which then get annotated, and within a month, I have a note with notes with notes (in a million different colours) and they really don't make much sense.

But, to the crux of my point (whoa, I have a point?), I have my pens. And they're either ink pens (I'm praying I don't spill tea on my notes. Then Jessica would be tres triste.) or brightly coloured "normal" pens that make my lit fic musings a lot happier than they probably should be.

TELL ME ABOUT YOUR PENS OF AWESOMENESS. And if you don't have pens, you can tell me about your word processor/quill/the contraption that you have that links up to your mind and writes your subconscious thoughts so that you can sleep and write all at the same time (OMG WHERE CAN I GET ONE OF THOSE?)