Writer's Vomit....
I have never suffered from writer’s block. I’m usually afflicted with writer’s vomit… a condition where ideas and words come in such profusion that my fingers can barely keep pace with my brain. Sounds great, but truly, the end result is often a mess of regurgitation that only a dog (or the most loyal sort of reader) finds interesting. But still the words come.
Till now. For the entire summer I drew a blank. A complete and total blank.
I could blame the crowd of kids in my house who make even getting to the computer a wicked obstacle course. But that’s lame…I have been known to do chapter outlines on the backs of grocery slips. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. You don’t have to be plugged in to plug away.
I could blame my mom. The poor soul who gave birth to me and encouraged me my whole life to create and dream…the lady who bought me my first type writer at a flea market when I was ten. She’s in the middle of a health overhaul and like any high mile vehicle, it takes a lot of work to make her road worthy. But that would be unfair, cause truly….what else is there to do in a waiting room? The writing time is there.
I could blame the SIMS….that wonderful make believe world where not only is my virtual house cleaned by a maid, but I have a pool in my yard and I am an accomplished (and skinny) writer. Ah, how I love fantasy land…
But truly honestly, when my social worker self analyzes the situation, I find a simple, brain locking question from my son at the root. “Mom, what will you do when you can’t just write for fun? When it’s a job with deadlines and critics and stuff?”
Hmm…thanks Debbie Downer.
But he’s right.
This is what I do for fun. It’s my entertainment when the kids won’t let me have a turn on the SIMs. What WOULD I do if it was work?
Then, as if on cue, an email arrives from an editor. It was a rejection (no surprise), but it contained that very precious ounce of feedback writer’s lust after. In three sentences she sent my brain into a tail spin…”Writing is good, story is good, but not break in novel material. Voice doesn’t appear until midway in chapter one and that’s too late. Voice is stronger in the blog and needs to be brought to the novel.”
Add sigh here. Then three months later an epiphany.
The opening of that novel was work. I fussed over every word, comma, and paragraph. The blog is goof off time; the blog is fun.
So, maybe, just maybe, out of the mouths of babes comes my truth. Writing as WORK will never work. At least not for me. I will write for the joy. It is my therapy, my comfort, and my solace. And one day if it sells…yippee…if it doesn’t….que sera sera.
Click for suggested background music...and yes, I do prep my kids for bed with a song as I dance around in heels. Don't you?
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