— Cornelia Funke, Inkspell (via karenhealey)
Instead you will find a tiny piece of character from this book, a tiny piece of plot from that book, a certain stylistic technique from that other, which you will combine into something totally new. It is the writer who reads only Stephen King who will turn out stories that sound like Stephen King – on a very, very bad day."
— Jeanne Cavelos (via miggylol)
There are two ways to deal with scars:
1. Hide them because you are embarrassed that you were ever weak enough or stupid enough to do something that scarred you.
2. Show them off because you are proud of yourself for surviving something terrible and getting stronger or wiser from it—or just having a good story to tell.
I’ve had lots of scars, as a writer, as a mother, as an athlete. I can show you the scars from the first time I took my lovely Cervelo out in the rain. My right elbow, my whole right hand, my right thigh. I can show you the scars from crashing into another racer on my left side. I can show you the scars from pregnancy, those thing white lines all over my stomach.
I can “show” you the scars from the first contract a publisher ever canceled with me. I can tell the story about that time I got fired from the job I had spent six years getting a PhD to get. I have scars from things reviewers have said about my books, from amazon 1-star reviews that I was stupid enough to read, and from cruel things I’ve heard from other authors.
Some of the scars don’t hurt at all anymore. Some of them twinge at me. Some are still a little raw, frankly, and I’m tempted to put gauze, ointment, and bandages on them when I go outside. But it helps to remember that everyone has scars, inside and out. Sometimes we get back on that bike again, and sometimes we decide that isn’t a good idea and we ride indoors from now on. It’s OK. They’re your scars. You choose the story you tell about them from now on.
I find it interesting that we all crave fame. It is the goal of almost everyone to be famous at what they do. And yet, when we look at famous people, what do we find? Almost every one of them has a horrible life. Fame destroys lives, almost universally. The only people who seem to escape this are people who have a taste and then walk away. Children, in particular, who grow up in the light of celebrity, have no chance. The more their lives are ruined, the more fascinated we are with them, and the more famous they become. There is something wrong with this, wrong with us, when the people who have what we think we want, are the most miserable people on earth.
— Terry Pratchett, author of the Discworld series, on writing magic. (via theticklishpear)
1. Only you can write this.
2. You were born to write this.
3. People need you to write this.
4. The world is waiting for you to finish this.
5. One day, someone will tell you how much they needed to read this.
6. You can write anything you set your mind to.
7. This has a glimmer of brilliance in it.
8. The crappy words will fall away in revision.
9. My vision of the world matters.
10. I see people in a new way.
You don’t need to believe that this is going to be a bestseller. You don’t need to believe that you’re going to be a household name. You don’t need to believe that someday people will study your book in college. But you do have to work to counteract the relentless voice of defeat in your head that says:
1. No one will ever read this.
2. I am banging my head against the wall here.
3. Who am I to think I could be a writer?
4. My father/mother/partner is right. I should give up.
5. I don’t know how to do this. I never learned. No one ever taught me.
6. My voice doesn’t matter.
7. My experience is too different from anyone else’s to connect with readers.
8. I don’t know what happens next.
9. I feel too exposed. I want to hide and protect myself more.
10. I can’t expect anyone to pay me for this when they can get so many other things for free.
Judy Foreman, author of A Nation in Pain: Healing our Biggest Health Problem, looks at the prevalence of chronic pain and how we treat it differently in men and women. (via oupacademic)
I’m horrified but not astonished.
Yeah if the researchers were astonished, that… says a lot about them.