Writing

I just spent the last hour and fifteen minutes working on the writing project I labored over all last week while at the lake house. I was in seclusion resurrecting a novel I began in 2010. For the last three years I have been unable to get the characters and their stories out of my head. I have even begun to think of them as real people, as people I know and love. So, you see, I have to finish their story.

Writing is difficult work in so many ways. There is the time factor. It is hard to find the time, or make the time, to sit down at the computer and weave the story. I am not a disciplined person like some of the writers I know who push through to a certain word count every day no matter what. I’m still trying to figure out what kind of a writing schedule will work for me; one that lets me attend yoga and tai chi classes. A schedule that permits out of town trips every few weeks and houseguests. I’m not the person who can close the door and tell others, “I’ve got to work for the next three hours. See you later.”

Perhaps more daunting than the scheduling is the fear that comes with being a writer. For me, writers’ block is being paralyzed by the dread of discovering I really suck as a novelist. The anxiety of thinking that others will reject my work, or worse, my beloved characters, is enough to make me find excuses not to write. If I don’t write then I can keep pretending I am brilliant. There does seem to be a problem with that logic. A manuscript sits in a big red binder on the shelf for three years.

I have a plethora of reasons for not writing. I need the perfect space for creating. I’ll write as soon as I clean my office or finish the timeline or answer the character questions for all the people in the story. I’ll write as soon as I finish reading the book on how to write a novel or on how not to write a novel. I’ll write as soon as I take a creative writing course. I’ll write when I begin going to the writers’ group meetings. I’ll write when inspiration hits. I’ve got to stop making excuses.

It may take another three years (or longer), but I will see this novel to completion. I may not have the discipline or a perfect command of the craft or even a clean office, but I have a great imagination and I love to tell a story. The rest will follow.