Another beautiful Saturday and I’m stuck at my computer, writing. I shouldn’t complain, I know. I am doing this because I want to but it does make me feel a little guilty that I’m sitting here in the semi-darkness typing away. There’s a whole world of possibilities out there …

The answer to this dilemma is that I need to earn enough of a living with WRITING so I can quit my day job. What a luxury to write without restricting that creative time to evenings and weekends. Maybe. Someday.

Chances are, if you’ve ever allowed friends or family to read your fiction, they’ve wondered if one of your characters were based on them.

I sent a close friend a copy of my novel and she immediately assumed the person who was murdered—described as a relatively empty headed, annoying person—was herself. I had based the murder victim on someone I knew, but it wasn’t my close friend and I was surprised that she would see herself in the character.

I’ve also had family members ask me, “When did that happen to you?” Of course, the event may have loosely happened to me or to someone I knew, but I’m always shocked that people, knowing they’re reading a novel, assume that I’m writing a journal rather then a complete work of fiction.

One of the novels I’m working on is about three sisters, murder and an abusive father. I have two sisters who I know will assume the characters are all about them. My father, who will never read the book unless and until it’s published, will without a doubt, assume the story is all about him. He will be furious. He will also be wrong.

Part of my enjoyment in writing is to create things that I haven’t seen, to shape a world that I can control and to meet people I don’t know. I take a little bit of this, a little bit of that and mix it together to hopefully create something enjoyable to read. Parts of me, parts of my friends, parts of the truth and parts of what never would or could happen. I use it all.

And if anyone did ask me, “Is that character me?” and it was-- I’d quickly and easily lie.

Do you just want to have your ego stroked or do you want to hear the truth? If you give someone one of your stories to read do you only want to hear that it’s great? Or do you want to know that you’ve switched POVs a zillion times, that your descriptions are cliché or that your plot is full of holes?

Criticism is not always easy to take but I’d rather hear that my plot is full of holes then to go around thinking I’ve written something brilliant when its crap. Unfortunately, most people who are willing to read your work are less likely to say they don’t like it because they don’t want to hurt your feelings. Personally, I’d rather have my feelings hurt then to not know that the work sucks. Hurt my feelings already. Tell me it’s boring. Tell me it’s unlikely. Tell me you were annoyed reading the junk.