The Writing Dungeon

There isn’t a lot to do when you’re off-duty on a nuclear submarine. There was a perpetual Dungeons & Dragons game going on. Players came and went as watches changed, even the Dungeon Masters rotated, each picking up where the other left off. Most of the time it convened in the mess, which served as a lot of things—movie theater, library, study hall, classroom, multi-denominational chapel, etc.—so sometimes the game floated to the bunk room, sickbay, and sometimes even the machine room. As long as it didn’t interfere with duties, brass didn’t much care.

As many of you know (more of you than will deign admit it), D&D centers around a game referee who describes scenarios to a group of players, each of whom role-play a fantasy hero in a party exploring caverns, tombs, ruins and mazes in search of fortune and glory, fighting fantastical monsters along the way. A hallmark of such a game is that all of the players are in the dark, metaphorically speaking, about what they will find ahead, around the next corner, down the next murky staircase. There is no way of knowing whether the adventure will be a fruitful one or not, except simply pushing through, hoping and praying you are doing the right things in the right order, not overlooking anything and eventually coming out the other end. No way of knowing if there will be rewards at the end or merely death, only certain that if you hesitate, if you do not push on through, you will never know.

For the first-time writer, this is what writing that first novel is like. So many things in your life resist you sitting down every day to write, but the most insidious of all is self-doubt. Writing every day while not knowing if you’re doing it right, if you’re headed in the right direction, if anyone is even going to want to read what you’ve written, having no clue about what the market will bear and even if there is an audience for the type of thing you’re writing… It’s a seemingly endless dark tunnel through which we all must slog alone.

So many of our family and acquaintances never understand. So many we meet have the same story: “Oh, I thought of being a writer once. I even started a book, but I never finished it.” Only the stout of heart can brave this dungeon. Confidence means nothing when you sit alone at your computer crafting stories out of whole cloth, with no one else to tell you whether you’re even on the right track or not. Only sheer hunger to tell a story and a need to tell it well can see us through this journey.

I am here to assure you that you are not alone. Because it isn’t just the first-time writer who feels this way. Even for the seasoned writer with many volumes under their name, there is an element of it every time they sit down to start a new project. And there are others who understand, too, who are going through what you’re going through. Your fellow writers at any RMFW critique group or conference workshop. They cannot sit with you in those strictly introverted writing hours, but spending even just an hour a week with them can go a long way toward recharging the batteries and shoring up your resolve for the next delve into the echoing tombs of self-doubt and uncertainty.

If you do not have a critique group, look into joining one. Consider attending RMFW’s Colorado Gold Conference. Meet and talk to others and be part of a community—a heroic party, if you will—of fellow intrepid adventurers.