So I find myself a little reticent to post any real substance about my actual book I’m writing. I think I’m worried about protecting what might be termed intellectual property?
My story is mine, from my heart, and I hate the thought of someone reading my ideas and running with them. What if someone who has an agent and a network of editing & publishing friends reads just the ideas and so consumes them that me, this insignificant nobody, is left behind, holding onto my unpublished works while the very stories that filled my mind (different, yet the same) are floating around cyberspace and bookshelves? (Of course, this reasoning in and of itself only proves how very highly I erroneously think of myself!)
I’m not saying someone couldn’t do it better, because surely someone could, but the stories are mine and I don’t want to share them in that regard. The guts of my stories, though, are not new, I’m sure!
The things that consume my mind and imagination are as old as time. Love, jealousy, betrayal, sacrifice, justice, desire, hope…the guts.
What do you all think? Is this something that I should be worried about? Should I go ahead and share my characters’ trials/triumphs or just stick to sharing about the generalities of my labor of love?
Because, this really is something I love. I feel when I write. I explore my own emotions and reactions and desires and hopes. I have freedom when I write and discover things in myself that I didn’t know or had forgotten. The people become real and maybe all of them reflect of little bit of me…
“When writing a novel a writer should create living people; people not characters. A character is a caricature.” – Ernest Hemingway