Paradox? I think so!
(God I love the word paradox...)
But this does literally sum up how I feel about writing most of the time. The main issue is usually feeling 'not in the mood',which I convince myself will produce poor writing. That's true some of the time, but still the whole 'not in the mood' can sometimes be something of a front, a deflection of what's really the problem.
I am one lazy bugger.
I think about writing and the effort of simply opening a page makes me want to collapse. That and I'm too often so very easy to discourage. I run into a single problem (so what's the next sentence?) (does that sound weird?) (oh no I wanted them to talk about THIS not THAT) and shut down.
Then there are the days when all of it piles up and I ask myself: 'Do I still like writing? Should it be this hard to get going?' I remember being 11 years old, running downstairs early in the morning and just sitting in the kitchen, scribbling out page after page, for hours. When was the last time I did that?
But I know exactly why it's not that easy. I'm a grown up. Despite outward appearances, I have matured immensely since I was 11. Now, writing isn't just that cool thing I can do which impresses people. It's something other people do. It's something that I need to work at every day, trying to be better than everyone else if I ever want to stand a chance of standing out. When I was 11, school, writing, the future - everything was in the background. But when you become an adult, there are no more backgrounds. Every aspect of your life is right there staring you in the face. Staring so hard your every instinct is to flinch.
What's the point? If it was any good then I'd be published already, selling a billion copies a day...
... Then those miserable monochrome five to ten minutes are gone. I break into a stride. I hit across a sentence that I love, or one I've dying to get down. I see my character and my story and the best lines and shining moments and I remember: Why the Hell is this here in the first place? Why isn't it all just in my head?
Because I believe in these ideas! I believe in them SO much that I just have to get them written I down. I spew it all out, knowing that 11 year old me would eat this up. He would be absolutely enthralled, desperate for more, desperate to permanently involve himself in the world I've made. Then I wonder... how many more of me are out there? Kids who just want to dive into something brand new. They want to laugh, they want to be on the edge of their seat, they want to get the next page, they want to get to the next book, and the next one, and the next one, and the next one!
Then I'm just going on and on and on. Next sentence - bring it on! I've got that line ready and waiting. The blank page isn't an immovable nightmare, it's a challenge, raring to be filled. Those little black letters, they're edged with sunlight and boy does it shine. Come on characters let's see what you can do with this! My fingers move like lightning. I'm three pages ahead of where I'm writing and I am SO ready to get there. The keystrokes, the keys. You know what else has keys that don't open doors? Pianos. Now that's no coincidence. They have music. I have words. It's Für Elise. It's that little tune that you just know. You know it's right and it's perfect and it just feels so...
Next chapter.
Sit back. Deep breath. Small grin.
THIS is writing - and I love it.
