Monday, February 24, 2014

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait...or Is It Carrion?

So February vacation is over. I've made my last batch of Belgian Waffles, the snow forts are melting into the driveway and the kids are at school. Now it's time to write. What do I write about? Hmmmm....good question. The blank page is staring at me...better get a cup of coffee...

There. NOW I will sit down and write. Oh friend Dawn is online. I haven't chatted with her in a while. I'll just say hello while I finish my coffee. THEN I will write. My back is sore from working out with my dear hubby last night. Maybe I'll take some Ibuprofen...AND THEN I will write. Okay, I've had my juice and Ibuprofen. That should take effect in about 20 minutes, right? That gives me some time to get dressed...since I didn't change out of my pajamas yet. THEN I will write.

It seems that what is on my mind is writing...or the avoidance of doing so. I am excited then because a recent article a friend of mine shared explained how most good writers procrastinate a bit before they really write anything. They hardly ever just dive in and do it. It has to do with a fear of turning in something poorly written. It can't be poorly written if it isn't written at all right? So I must be about to write The Great American Novel because I can think of a thousand things to do besides write. This is in spite of the fact that I just quit a decent job to write for a bit.

But phone just vibrated. It wasn't a call...what was it? Should I answer it? Look to see what the latest Facebook post was or should I just ignore it? I am, after all, writing. This is my time to write. I'm not supposed to use this time to Facebook or Twitter, or Foursquare, or check email. I'm supposed to write.

If you're a writer does this sound like you? Do you sit down and get to it right away or do you circle the task of writing like a vulture waiting for the right time to pick a carcass clean? It could be either on any given day, am I right? For me, the act of writing feels natural, like an extension of myself...most of the time. On those days there is meat to what I write and my fingers fly across the keyboard or the pen whips across the page as if it has a mind of its own. Other days, like today, I have to coax the words out one at a time and it does feel like a dead carcass. Then I have to pick at writing a little at a time and it can be painful.

I am still struggling to find my writer's "voice" I think. I haven't hit that stride that I want to hit that is conversational. My friend Christine does a wonderful job with her blog. She is interesting, funny, and talks about things in a way that makes you care about what she's writing. Check this out: I love reading her writing. She is amazing. And intelligent. And real. Maybe someday I will write like that. Or maybe I'll find a way to write like me. I mean, admiring someone is a good thing, right? So is emulating them to a degree, right? But I need to be me of course. Not her. I mean, seriously, the world already has Christine. She can't be duplicated nor should she be. I just want to hit the mark as often as she does.

Quick bathroom break and it's back to writing...

Here I am again, armed with a new cup of coffee and ready to write something amazing. Or not. Who knows? I just know I'm going to write and hope someone wants to read it. If they do, great. If they don't, I'll be still here, picking at the carcass...

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