It is the lot of many writers to exist in a state of flux and frustration from time to time. The most aggravating aspect of being stalled mid story is that it happens just when you are feeling like you are riding the crest of the creative wave. There you are, fingers moving across that keyboard like they’re on fire, deftly attempting to keep pace with your thoughts. Nothing can stop you now, you are now feeling the juice of a best seller coursing through your blood stream. You are now fully engaged in the act of creation and you know that this is why you were born. You are a story teller. Yep, you are on your way and nothing can stop you now Then, it happens. You stop. Someone or something has turned off the tap. The jolt is physically jarring and it takes a moment or two for you to regain your bearings. You get up, walk around and generally feel a bit bewildered and sort of lost.
This may go on for a day, a week or a month, but it is annoying as hell. You go for walks, or do your other job, in the hope it will pass and once again you will become one with the deity who bestows upon his/her lowly servant, a story line, ending, middle, any damn thing that will get the juice flowing once more. The expletives roll off your tongue whenever you are anywhere near that contraption of torment: The computer. Eventually you begin to curse said deity for their complete ineptness and lack of compassion. You know you are in trouble when you begin to rue the day you ever thought you could be a writer of any significance. This usually finalizes itself with a certain and determined promise to yourself to never write again as long as you live. You will take up knitting or scrapbooking, anything but writing.
I’ve found that this has the staying power of dollar store glue and before I know it I’m back to the laptop, writing any drivel that wafts it’s way through the emptiness of my now aching head. It was during one of these hollow experiments with free writing that I had a Eureka moment. I decided I would work on some short stories I’ve kept tucked away in the attic of this laptop. It turns out that reading them and completing one in particular has restored my enthusiasm for the YA novel that has me stymied. At this rate, between the house mothering, house cleaning and survival I may get this thing done, dusted and published just in time for the recovery of the economy and subsequent regrowth of publishing. At least I hope I do and it does.
One last thing before I go on my merry way to clean another house: HAPPY THANKSGIVING! to all the lovely Americans who pass by this blog. May you all eat far too much turkey, laugh a great deal and have a wonderful time with your families.