writes and writes...

Month: June 2023

Anxiety is a Bad Storyteller

Anxiety, for me, is a bad storyteller.  It’s half your brain, telling you bad stories all the time. You don’t want to hear them, but can’t help but listen.

One of the most famous writers of all, Stephen King, has said that he doesn’t plot, but instead uses “what-if” scenarios.  “A strong enough situation renders the whole question of plot moot. The most interesting situations can usually be expressed as a What-if question: What if vampires invaded a small New England village? (Salem’s Lot). What if a young mother and her son became trapped in their stalled car by a rabid dog? (Cujo).” –Stephen King

Well, anxiety is your brain telling you “what-if” scenarios all the time. However, they are simultaneously weak plots and yet, also, the kind that will send a person into a panic spiral. For example, it’s been raining here for three days so here are some of the what-ifs my brain is giving me: “What if you get another roof leak?  What if you get a leak, but it’s really water seeping into the house and it’s really slow and you don’t catch it right away? What if that imaginary slow leak causes the walls to fill with mold? What if you catch it, but your home insurance won’t pay for it? While you’re busy worrying about the roof, the walls, and the whole house leaking, what if your car is leaky too?”

None of these things would make a particularly good story.   (Okay, maybe the one with the mold, but only if the mold is sentient and starts talking to you).  But I hear this kind of thing in my mind, all the time. It’s my brain’s response to everything from one of my kids sniffling to someone driving erraticly in traffic. What-ifs, what-ifs, what-ifs.

It’s not all bad.  I tend to notice bad drivers, and stay well away from them.  I’m sure to catch any leaks, should I get one in my roof.  But it’s hardly a super-power.  It’s just more worry about things most people are able to brush off.

Now, I know what you’re going to say, which is probably going to be something along the lines of “Just don’t think like that.” Person Reading This, I have tried.  Have you ever had a toddler follow you around and ask you questions and you can’t shake them, no matter what?  Sometimes you give them a cookie and they go quiet to eat it for five minutes but then they’re back?  That’s anxiety, except the toddler is IN MY HEAD.  And that toddler is insistent.  But, thankfully, also like the toddler, if I give my that part of my brain well-reasoned answers–“we checked the ceiling already and there are no signs of leaks and there has been no wind to cause damage, so it’s fine” or “No the basement is not going to spring a leak as it would take a lot of water to soak through eight inches of cinderblock”–eventually it will accept them and take a nap, for a little while at least.

And, like most storytellers, every so often that half of my brain comes up with a “what-if” I can turn into something…besides anxiety, that is.

This blog post was brought to you by my brain not being able to sleep at night and coming up for with this idea at 1 a.m. thanks to Anxiety!

Imposter Syndrome, It’s Coming For Ya! (Or My First Story Got Published)

Back in mid-March, I received an email every writer longs to get. You know, the one that starts with “Your story has been accepted…”  and follows up with said writer’s utter disbelief.  My personal favorite story, “Doran” had been accepted by Allegory Magazine for publication in their May issue! And there was even token payment involved!  I didn’t scream. I did shout at my family very loudly and very excitedly.

You would think that would solve that imposter syndrome, that finally having a story published would make me go, “Yes, I am a talented writer.” Instead, even as I signed the contract, wrote up and sent them a bio (I hate writing those by the way, and should you go read the story, I almost want to hear what you think of the bio more), and waited for publication day, I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.  For the magazine to fold, for the editor to tell me it was a mistake and they meant the other story about a swamp child by the other J. M. Bask.   But nope, my story got published (and yes, it’s at that link up there).

But the imposter syndrome is still here.  My brain is convinced no one has read it.  My brain is convinced no one will publish anything else of mine.

And you know what I do?  I tell my brain to STFU.  It doesn’t work, not really.  Those thoughts come creeping back. Every time I send out a story it tries to tell me I’m wasting my time.  Every time I pick up a pen to work on my novel, it literally asks,  Why are you doing this?  I can’t get it to shut up, but sometimes, if I shout back loud enough–Because I want to! Because I AM good at this!–that stupid part of my brain that wants to see me fail will at least go hide in a corner for a little while.  And if that’s enough for me to keep going, then I’ll take it.

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