This is just a short note about not counting your lack of chickens before they fail to hatch.
Writing has been dragging for me, lately. I mean draaaaagiiiiiiing. Not fun to do, and not good to read. It’s been one of those periods where I peruse the want-ads to see if maybe there’s something else I should be doing with my days. Finally, in desperation, I emailed a friend and said, “All my words feel clunky, like steel-toed boots.” Later I re-read the email, and had this thought: Dang. I wrote that just like a writer would.
And then I drew the only possible conclusion: I guess I am still a writer, after all.
So, with a sigh, I sat down at the keyboard, and proceeded to drag those steel-toed boots through several very clunky paragraphs. By the time I shut my computer down for the night, the boots weren’t exactly dancing ballet, but they were at least a little more coordinated, and less Frankenstein-esque.
I know there’s a lesson here, but I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’s this: don’t trumpet the thing that you can’t do, then accidentally do it. Like, don’t call out to an audience that you can’t walk on a tightrope, then run across said tightrope to tell the audience on the other side of the tent the same thing. Don’t stand at a hibachi grill and yell “I don’t know how to cook!” before serving customers a delicious meal.
But here’s the main thing that I, personally, am taking away from this: When I have a job to do (and writing is my job, if I choose to make it so), I just have to get over myself and do it. Don’t brew all that drama in my psyche: put the drama in the stories. That’s the best place for it.
Anyhow, I just wrote a blog post about how I couldn’t write. Irony, anyone? 🙂
I’m curious whether others have had the same experience: been about ready to quit something, then all of a sudden found themselves doing that thing without realizing it. If you have any stories of a similar nature to share, I hope you’ll leave them in the comments.
Thanks for letting me vent!