Can I tell you a secret?
The writing life is honest-to-goodness hard work.
There’s no glamour in sitting at your desk staring at a blank Word doc on the screen, watching the cursor blink. So, while I am waiting for “inspiration”, I get out the Swiffer and dust my desk. I check Facebook for new posts, even though I just checked it three minutes ago. I stare out the window at the city workers painting lines on the street. I play a round of solitaire on my computer. After an hour or so, I go downstairs and clean up the kitchen. At least that is productive.
I’ve read all kinds of books on how-to books on writing. While there are always a few good nuggets in each one, they all pretty much say the same thing. In order to be a writer, you have to write. Not read a book. Not clean the house. Not talk on the phone. Not play solitaire on your computer. Grrrr.
Most of the time I am pretty good and sticking to the task at hand, but I’ll be honest with you. Since Christmas, I haven’t felt much by way of motivation to get going on the two novels I have in progress. I’ve written lots of blog posts (that’s technically writing, right?) and emails and all kinds of un-novel-ish things, but my poor characters are starting to lose patience with me. I don’t blame them. I haven’t given them much attention for quite some time and I know they are feeling neglected.
So what’s the solution? I know what the books say. I know what other writers say. I know what my heart says. WRITE!
So write, I will.