From the casket of insecurity..... A writer.... or a fraud?

This morning I made my way across the grass to Tuscany (yes, I have been attempting to keep my New Year's Resolution). 

But in my head, I have been in a strange place today.





Recently, I have spent most of my working day writing, enjoying the start of a new book, fresh new characters.  Not entirely sure where it is going yet, but for me that is part of the experience and joy.  So, you may ask, what is the problem?

As I made my way across the grass ....
 
( OK, so this isn't actually me  it's Loki - my daughter's cat - on her way to visit Tuscany)

.......a thought occurred to me - well, to be honest a series of thoughts, none of them conducive to continuing with my WIP or in fact writing anything at all. 

'Was it any good? Why was I writing it? Would anyone in the entire world be interested in what I was writing?  What were the chances of anyone wanting to publish it and if not why was I bothering at all, should I be writing something else instead?

I'm not sure what exactly sparked off this miserable journey of thought but it continued with the inevitability of a train crash - one that you can see is about to happen and you can do nothing to stop.  So follow it I did, to its logical end....  

'Here I am about to spend the next few hours of my day pretending to the world that I am a WRITER - that I write things people want to read.  Perhaps that's not true and maybe I am a FRAUD!  Should I just stop kidding myself, pack up my things and go and look for a real job instead?'

Now I'm not usually inclined to moments of such blistering insecurity. Like lots of other writers I have times, in almost every book, when I feel like throwing it all away and giving up, but not usually at the beginning.  I had been looking forward to being able to spend time writing this story; it had been in my head for a while, so why -  now that I had time - was I being so negative about it?

 

I soldiered on and arrived (a few steps later- it's not a huge garden ) at the door and fumbling with the handle managed to avoid spilling my glass of water over my laptop as I went in.

In the winter I put the heater on for a while before I go in, so it was pleasantly comfortable inside, the chair and desk awaiting my presence.  

Once settled there the automaton-me opened the file ready to start.  

'Should I stick with it or give in to the whispers in my head?'

With a sudden determination to slam shut the casket of insecurity I scrolled down to where I had left the characters, in mid conversation (always easier to start up again that way), and found I was among friends.  I could hear their voices and they were telling me their story once more.  

I want to find out what happens next and although there are no guarantees, I am back on the road again.

So what did I learn today? 

1.       To ignore the whispers from the casket of insecurity, they are MEAN and deserve no audience. 
2.        I write - therefore I am a writer, not a fraud.. for now at least!