Well, this is it. This is the part of being a writer that sucks so much worse than the movies show. This part hurts.
I’ve indulged in enough nature documentaries and post-apocalyptic YA fantasy stories to know that if you ever find yourself stranded – especially on an island in the middle of the ocean – the most important, number one, highest-priority thing to do is find potable water.
If you follow write what you know literally, you are going to severely limit yourself as a writer.
Because no matter what we write, we must give some of ourselves over the story, to the writing, to the characters, the sacrifice every writer must make to get it right.
Because here’s the thing, the best thing I’ve ever written is the last thing I wrote. It’s the thing I’m writing now.
Writing a book does not happen on the day of the release, but rather, over the course of so, so many hours and so many opportunities to give up.
And I consider that my greatest accomplishment.
Alright, so this week’s post is a carte blanche to brag about yourself – me! – and frankly that seems hard. So I’ll skip the officially blog business and get down to a fun and humorous account of the thing I’m proud of!
In Barcelona, I learned a lot about myself.
If we spend all this time down the rabbit hole, how do we come up with any ideas for the blog?
From the wilds of the Faroe Islands, to the rolling countrysides of Ancient Erin, Juliet’s tales have taken the fantastical and made it human, taken the human and made it fantastical.