June Recap:
What a month! Holy bologna. There were multiple birthdays, lots of yard work, a wolf encounter, and I kicked the chickies out of the house.
Bye, chickie babies!
The most exciting event of the month was the tour of the Wolf Sanctuary near Woodland Park, CO. I’d driven past this place multiple times on the way to my parent’s place out in the mountains, but I’d never been in. I always thought it was just a huge piece of land where they let wolves roam free, and I wondered how those wolves didn’t eat the livestock of nearby ranches. But it’s actually a series of huge pens with pairs of wolves — either bonded friends or mates. They can’t have more than two, because a pack of wolves can take up acres of land, and they don’t have that much space.
It was crazy to learn how endangered wolves really are. There are two main species, Grey and Red wolves, and one recognized sub-species, the Mexican Wolf. The grey are doing the best with their re-introduction program in the north(west) areas, with about 10-14,000 wolves in the wild. The Mexican are next most well-off with about 500 wolves. But the red wolves — yikes — there are less than 20 left in the wild. They are on the endangered species list, and there is a breeding program set up for them to hopefully help bolster the population without inbreeding. They are giant, beautiful creatures, and it was heartbreaking to hear how they were almost completely wiped out completely due to fear and ignorance.
At the end of the tour, we got to talk to the wolves, and it was glorious! We, as a tour group, howled together for a second or two, then went quiet. And there was this beat of silence before one of the grey wolves started howling, and then everything was howling; the wolves, the New Guinea singing dogs, the coyotes. It was cacophony of howls, and I loved the full minute of chatter we got from them. It definitely did something pure and wonderful for my soul.
My Personal Artist’s Dilemma:
There is some commonality among artists of every kind when it comes to the dark side of creativity; Imposter Syndrome, Writer’s Block, never being good enough. I’ve gone through pretty much every single one of them — though the imposter syndrome was more work-related than writer, but I’ve still been there. I’ve managed to get through all of them, each time they’ve reared their forked-tongued heads at me.
Until now.
I don’t know what this dilemma would fall under, but I don’t want to try anymore.
Not not write, but not try anymore to get it out there.
Writing is, and always has been, my escape from reality into a world of my own making. I write because I love it, and because it makes me happy. I love my worlds and my characters, and the way they truly come to life in my head and my dreams. I absolutely adore writing. It brings me great joy, and that’s so important to me.
Lately, I’ve lost some of that joy. Yes, it’s the continued rejections from every editor and agent on the planet. But it’s also the subtle and not so subtle hints from my critique group that they don’t want to read any more of my stuff — not necessarily because it’s bad, but because it’s too dark; but it’s still rejection. It’s the immense inundation of independently published authors that put their books out there every day — great, terrible, and everything in between. It’s the overwhelming list of things to do to actually publish independently, knowing full well that you might not sell more than a dozen copies. It’s the staggering amount of work that equals a second job just to market “appropriately,” when I already have a fulltime job and too many hobbies to keep up with. It’s the idea that one must become Sisyphus just to be noticed through the sheer volume of book noise out there already.
And that, all of that, kills the joy within me.
I’ve never really written on trend, and I’ve always known I’ll never be the next big thing. I write what I want to write when I want to write it. Whatever makes me happy at that moment in time, that’s what I’m writing. Sometimes it’s apocalyptic YA, sometimes it’s Twilight Zone flash fiction, sometimes it’s adorable RomCom stories — it changes as I change. It’s literally just what makes me happy. That’s the only criteria that I have.
When that bliss starts waning, that’s when I know I have to change something. Do I want my stories out there for everyone to read? Hell yes, I do. But it’s more important for me to keep this true pleasure alive in my life. So for now, I am writing like a fiend, but with no intent at all for others to read it. I’m happily typing away in a world that makes me laugh and smile. I’m writing for the pure joy of writing.
What is that? What would you call that? I don’t know what it is, but it may or may not be the end of Author Torie.
