Dilemma of a Modern Writer – Combating the Urge to Give-Up


… and why I can’t, would make the title much too long.  But it certainly needs to be said as I can’t give up.  There are days I say – ‘in the whole scheme of my life – how important is it to write’.  The answer is always – I can’t stop.  The urge, the ideas and the need – combine to make it impossible to quit.  I can accept if I write for myself (your loss romance readers – tongue in cheek) – so be it.

Just one idle moment starts me writing – giving an opinion – even if it’s only to a friend or relative.  It’s surely an addiction – but it is a harmless addiction, only affecting me and no one else.  It might also be my addiction that offers light relief from stress in other people’s lives.  For a few hours I offer enjoyment, hope and happiness by escaping into another world.  It is probably therapeutic for me as well.

Previously I wrote historical and the research had me spend endless days enthralled and fascinated.  When I was younger I heard that Canada was a boring, passive country populated by nice, wonderful, happy people. I know this because some historians/writers said so.  When I began researching I couldn’t believe our rich,exciting history and so my writing career started.  From the Lost Lemon Mine Legend to Indian Massacres and on to Canada’s Civil War and even Billy Miner – a notorious train/bank robber who rivals Jesse James I was hooked.

Trying to capture these stories I have published three historical romances and have two written in rough draft.  I can’t seem to complete those two as new ideas and new thoughts invade and push me to write yet further stories.  I can’t give-up and I suggest to all writer’s – never give-up – even if you are writing for your own pleasure.  So many great stories have been rejected for no fact – other than they have been rejected, not because they aren’t good.  Writing and reading are all perception and opinion.  It is never a fact.

Paradise on the Horizon by Mary M. ForbesIn Paradise on the Horizon a religious group actually march naked across the cold, barren prairies of Saskatchewan and Manitoba. They called themselves the ‘Sons of Freedom’. Is that boring or does it beg the question – why? 

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