The Path, the Journey, the Adventure, the Angst

Yes, the posts this month are supposed to be about favorite authors. I have them. Everyone who reads has them. But they aren't necessarily doing much for me now. I remember the glow of the excitement as I turned page after page, not reading every word in my eagerness to get to more. Yes, more. More of the action.

But, what was the action? Was it spaceships colliding with myriad asteroids, Milady's eyelashes clashing with her cheeks as she attempts to pull one over on an unsuspecting male, or was it his lips coming to within a whisper's breath of her ear.

But what about my writing? Where is the action?

So, I took the path, read about the journey, fell into the adventure, and now suffer the angst. I fear that my writing falls so dreadfully short of whatever anyone would want to read. My characters have nothing special. They don't fly. They don't melt. They don't even know why they do what they do. My settings for them aren't much better. Tarzan had jungle and animal friends. He even had natives who were his friends. Some of his adventures had treasures. There aren't any treasures to be found in my settings. No maps either. Sumptuous furnishings and riches of culture? Nope, I hardly have windows let alone drapes. Four poster beds? Ha, my characters barely get a blanket--each. They don't go to plays, watch videos, or get any music. Food. Surely I feed them? Sometimes. They go hungry a bit and what they do get isn't necessarily tasty sounding.

Why would anyone read anything I've written? Because it is different. Different from what someone else has written. It has a different flavor, a different point of view, it has action.

No car chases, but animals come at them, claws and teeth bared. One woman's path is another woman's nightmare. The action I used to spin the story forward is different from what another author would have chosen. I have one heroine, squatting over a fire trying to roast a bird part. It would have been better if she'd have removed all of the feathers.

Can you see that? Can you smell how that must be? Can you feel her frustration?

And that is why my writing, lyrical, poignant or not, is worth writing. Because I can bring a different feel to a situation because of what my writer's mind says is the story. Another writer would have chosen a different aspect to write about this woman's journey.

So, whether we stay on the path, complete the journey, die in the adventure, or survive the angst, the story is an extension of my mind's vehicle for you, the reader to ride.

I hope you have a nice trip in the next adventure you read. Me, I'll corner my angst and tell her to shut up a bit, her screaming is getting to my ears.