UrbWrites Weekly #9 - Venting
“What's talent but the ability to get away with something?”
Tennessee Williams asks this week’s subtitle. I chose it because of the rampant imposter syndrome running amok in my mind. It’s not rational, it’s not fair and it’s certainly not valid. I can, in the cold light of day, say that. Yet it persists, pervades and pisses me the fuck off.
There’s a correlation at play, I think. Screaming, desperate to be heard on Threads, Instagram, TikTok and X is horrid. I presume this is all good pain. The type that renders upon one a thick crust. A hide so tough and worn that even a paltry 49 views on my, frankly, genius Barry video cannot penetrate.
I’ve experienced my first prolonged period of writer’s block. I think it’s the mindset shift to things ending, cycles completing and caustic, acrid acts of self-promotion that have left me limp and inert. I open a Word document and struggle to summon the words. This post today was forced out between gritted teeth.
I need a reset. I can recognise that now.
Oh, and I’m back on my OCD medication for the first time in a few years. Correlation there as well, I suspect.
We march on, though. Because the work, the constant hours of staring at my proofread novel, demands it. Correcting over 5,000 comments on a PDF that steams the monitor. Commas, semi-colons that defy existence and of course the em dashes that will no doubt herald cries of AI.
Shut the fuck up, internet. My book is perfect (to me) and I don’t care if not a soul ever buys it.
It’s the story I wanted to write and I’m proud to share it with the world.
The Right Members Club, is available for Kindle pre-order now and will publish fully, with paperback option, 3rd April 2026!
I’m still looking for ARC team members so if you would like to get a free copy and help me out with an honest review then click here.
Let’s get into it.
Welcome back to UrbWrites Weekly. Nine. Nein. Fucking whine.
This week on Substack:
Community Spotlight
Substack is a great place. It’s not without its flaws (hello algorithm changes that seem to hide you from everyone). But because of it, I am now part of a tremendously exciting anthology project.
Future Britains will be a speculative fiction anthology depicting alternative visions of a near-future Britain by British creators from across these isles. The anthology will present grounded sci-fi and dystopian short stories of varying lengths, supplemented with other content including poems and illustrations. Each work will comment on the social, political, technological or environmental issues of today by depicting perceivable outcomes and choices that Britons could face tomorrow.
I’m going to rework my first Substack serial, Everyone Has One, as a 3,000-word story. I’m excited to try to convey the test, the great dismissal and Teapot’s lecherous, tax-loving government in a new form.
Watch this space!
Tales from a Liminal Town
Charlie Arnold was subjected to supernatural wine pairings this week. Chapter 3 of The Parking Space on Walkern Road released on Monday and of course, as serials are wont to do, the engagement has dropped a little. It’s expected but it’s still a shame.
I promise you body horror and torture in upcoming parts. In ways that perhaps you’ve never experienced before.
We have a few chapters left and then, beyond that, the next liminal tale will be The Button, in which a woman loses her mind willingly. It’s a chaotic, frenetic story with an unreliable narrator. Poor Issy, poor John.
I have started thinking about a nicer ghost story. My take on a haunted hotel but with a twist. Guests come for a two-week holiday before they pass on. Hotels are purgatory, liminal spaces that demand transience. I like the idea of a manager of this fading establishment (paranormal fading) trying to keep the lights on and the ghosts happy. I think it’s an allegory for dementia but I’m not sure yet.
The writer’s block is preventing me from getting under way. But the passion to tell the story remains undimmed.
On Talent . . .
I read a beautiful story this week from Three Stories About Ghosts. Martin Hall’s caper around Montreal. Some of the ideas were outlandish but the author had so much talent in how they delivered them that it wrapped a blanket around me, the reader, and said ‘you’re fine, you’re comfortable, enjoy’.
Perhaps if I had written it, without as much talent, it would have fallen flat.
Reading that sort of work pisses me off but also lights a fire. I want that. I want to have people buy into my crazy ideas, my stupid plots and have the time of their lives reading my work.
So yes, I have to agree with old Tennessee. Talent is the ability to get away with something.
In my case, I’d like to get away from my imposter syndrome.
Perhaps one day.
I’ll leave you with a line from that story that feels apt for my mood.
‘Its keening wails became wet whimpers.’
See you next week.
Louis
Best of luck beating that writers block. That crap seems to come in fast for me, but it always passes by eventually.
Totally natural to have ups and downs and seasons of fruitfulness and fallow. Be kind to yourself and it will come back. But your line here: “My book is perfect (to me) and I don’t care if not a soul ever buys it.” That feels so powerful and inspirational and is sticking with me.