Writing is not for the weak
Before I begin regular blog posts, I want to make a general statement that tells you a lot about how I write. I understand that there are people who are filled with words just waiting to get out. They sit down, thumb their phones or tablets or computers and the words pour from their fingertips onto the screen. They can do it spontaneously, with no warm-up, with no mental provocation, with no preparation, and pick up in mid-sentence where they were hours before.
I’m not one of those people.
Ernest Hemmingway has this quote: “Don’t let them know you have to work at it. Let them think that you were born this way.”
I wish. I have to start and start over; I erase a lot; I revise constantly; I read writing books (more about this later); and I have been disappointed more times than I have been overjoyed.
It takes courage. It takes strength.
If you are a writer or want to become one or want to become a better one, then you need to have courage. There will be times when you read something a critic has said and, after imagining him drawn and quartered, you’ll shake your head and say that he’s probably correct and you should cash in your writers’ magazine subscription and put the money toward truck driving school.
It might be true, but I doubt it. You’ll need courage to go on; writing is not for the weak.
Courage, perseverance, tolerance, and even a rage in you not to give up.
Don’t worry – things will work out. Writing is a craft and you can learn it just like thousands of other people have learned it. It will take willfulness, and drive, and persistence, but there is a joy beyond imagining when you see someone absorbed in your book, your magazine article, or your newspaper column, and you’ll be rushing home to start another one.
Hi! I’m me.
I’m writing at an old corner desk in a spare bedroom that’s been my study for the last 16 years. I wager that I’ve typed more than a million words since the day I first turned on my computer. My major efforts have gone to writing stories for The Mogi Franklin Mystery Series, currently nine novels (about 35K words each) that relate the adventures of Mogi and Jennifer Franklin in their efforts to solve mysteries, resolve crises around them, help friends, and thwart bad guys who are threatening to do bad things. I’ve also written a handful of short stories, three adult-length novels (about 110K words each) dealing with ISIS terrorists, Texas ranchers, Comanche Indians, Buffalo Bill Cody, and rebuilding a haunted Victorian house that has a heartbeat if you listen close enough.
I like the variety of my subjects and the resulting stories, but with the Mogi books there are common threads: love for the landscapes of the Southwest, the benefit of nature and of wildness on a person, the responsibilities that we share to endorse and grow functional lives, and the obligations we have to resist evil and promote good. You’ll find me talking about these common threads, plus other topics, as I post on this blogsite. Blogging to me is like having a great conversation with a good friend without the cost of lunch.
I have ideas and thoughts about writing, as well as experiences to share in creating, writing, and publishing books. I began with the typical hundred-plus number of rejection letters from established publishers, switched to self-publishing where I put out ten books, covers and all, suffered the lack of sales directly linked to my distaste for marketing, and am now rewriting everything under the guidance of a professional editor at a bona fide publishing house. And I’m learning to appreciate marketing. I know how to be patient, if nothing else, but I also know how to work hard while being patient.
I invite you back to this site as I move forward with populating it with my current and coming books, pictures from my locations, and the blogs that I hope to write on a weekly basis. Wait for my new input every Tuesday morning.
Don Willerton has been a reader all his life and yearns to write words like the authors he has read. He's working hard at it and invites others to share their experiences.