There are so many of me that I think its quite ridiculous.
There is the original me, the one people at my son's school know, the one who does the groceries, who takes the kids to swimming. The one my close family and friends see, sometimes neat and tidy, othertimes a mess. At times in control, at others crumbling under the chaos life can throw. But always one who is doing for someone else, not herself.
But since August last year I decided, with the support of my family, I needed to do something for me, to try to take my writing seriously, to give it a chance - even if, in the immortal words of Harry Zimm (Get Shorty) the writing that pays best is 'ransom notes' - and a new me, the writer me, emerged. This one was full of self doubt but brimming with hope, a secretive me, someone no-one outside the writing community and my immediate family knew about.
To keep this new me a secret, I invented another me, under a pen name, Ellanora Joy, to enable me to be visible, to blog, join facebook, but at the same time stay hidden away.
But something has changed, and that something is bootcamp. To quote one of the most famous of our craft:
I begin already to weigh my words and sentences more than I did, and am looking about for a sentiment, an illustration or a metaphor in every corner of the room. Could my Ideas flow as fast as the rain in the Store closet it would be charming.
Letter, January 24, 1809, to her sister, Cassandra. Jane Austen’s Letters, Oxford University Press (1952).
My self-doubt has lessened, and my confidence grown. I CAN do this! I'm becoming proud of what I write and I need to start trusting that others will like it too. And understand that this writer is just me, Anita, but more honest then the one they knew before. Because this time they know what is on the inside.
So, as my confidence grows I hope the numbers of Anita's reduce, until there is just me left.
There is the original me, the one people at my son's school know, the one who does the groceries, who takes the kids to swimming. The one my close family and friends see, sometimes neat and tidy, othertimes a mess. At times in control, at others crumbling under the chaos life can throw. But always one who is doing for someone else, not herself.
But since August last year I decided, with the support of my family, I needed to do something for me, to try to take my writing seriously, to give it a chance - even if, in the immortal words of Harry Zimm (Get Shorty) the writing that pays best is 'ransom notes' - and a new me, the writer me, emerged. This one was full of self doubt but brimming with hope, a secretive me, someone no-one outside the writing community and my immediate family knew about.
To keep this new me a secret, I invented another me, under a pen name, Ellanora Joy, to enable me to be visible, to blog, join facebook, but at the same time stay hidden away.
But something has changed, and that something is bootcamp. To quote one of the most famous of our craft:
I begin already to weigh my words and sentences more than I did, and am looking about for a sentiment, an illustration or a metaphor in every corner of the room. Could my Ideas flow as fast as the rain in the Store closet it would be charming.
Letter, January 24, 1809, to her sister, Cassandra. Jane Austen’s Letters, Oxford University Press (1952).
My self-doubt has lessened, and my confidence grown. I CAN do this! I'm becoming proud of what I write and I need to start trusting that others will like it too. And understand that this writer is just me, Anita, but more honest then the one they knew before. Because this time they know what is on the inside.
So, as my confidence grows I hope the numbers of Anita's reduce, until there is just me left.
Of course, it is normally never this tidy, but I tidied up just for the photos - the mess has since returned!