I had company earlier today. This little lady and a few of her friends have managed to find their way into our house as they seem to do every spring. I thought she displayed an amazing degree of bravery, though, marching across my notebook the way she did. Don’t worry, she did not meet her demise. I escaped her, as my four-year-old grandson would say.
Unfortunately, this was yet another diversion to keep me from the dreaded rewrites. Am I allowed to say that I am so tired of this story that I want to remove all references to the thing from my desk, my hard drive, and everywhere else?
I read this quote from Ernest Hemingway:
I read my books sometimes to cheer me up when it’s hard to write and then I remember that it was always difficult and how nearly impossible it was sometimes.
While I’ve never been a Hemingway fan, his words are so true. Today feels like one of those nearly impossible days. I wonder what it is that makes me think I can actually write something that people will want to read. Am I kidding myself? Are my dreams too big?
I know what the acceptable answer is. I’m just not feelin’ it.
So, from the desk of a very honest and discouraged writer who is avoiding the work of rewrites on a story she doesn’t want to look at anymore, it is what it is. I know this will pass. It always does. I know the exhilaration of a really good writing day will come again. I am confident that whatever creativity lurks in the recesses of my muddled brain will make its way to the surface eventually. I will see the light at the end of the tunnel. Right?
RIGHT . . . ?
I’m going to go outside and re-pot my ferns now.