I had this slogan on a tee-shirt. Another was Tomorrow I Have to Stop Procrastinating. Those shirts have long since worn out. And here I am in that writer’s limbo state again of being between a book recently released and waiting for THE BIG IDEA to come in order to start the next project.
I have an idea! (Actually, I have two, but one is taking over…)
That’s part of the problem. I’m already researching, immersing myself in a subject that has pinched me with questions for a long time. It’s a place I do not want to go. And no, I’m not going to say where that is. It is definitely NOT a hot topic. In fact, I’ve seen a few grimaces when I bring up the subject. Which just makes me more intrigued and raises more questions. Why not take a deeper look there?
The past two projects are showing me that writing does not get easier. Not that I ever had any illusions that it would. I just didn’t expect it to become more and more difficult. I’d like to blame it on age. Well, I guess I can blame some of it on aging gray matter and more scattered thinking. If I can’t remember what I went downstairs to get and have to go back upstairs to remind myself, it stands to reason I have trouble staying on topic. (This blog as a case in point.) I do remember to remind myself of the mouse that ate the elephant — one bite at a time. Does anyone ever think that illustration through? How long would it take a mouse to eat an elephant? What shape would that elephant carcass be in by the time the mouse was having that last bite? Gross!!
During limbo times, the niggling fears come whispering. Whatever gave you the idea you could be a writer? Right now, I’m having trouble writing a grocery list. You’re repeating yourself. Am I? The last thing I want to do is bore the reader.
Rick says I get edgy when I’m not writing. I sit and stare off into space. I don’t have my usual beatific smile (ha ha) or light in the eyes. I imagine I look pained. Lost in the wilderness. Do I climb a tree and search for the trail? Or find a creek and follow it back to where I belong? And where exactly is that?
If you’ve read this far, you are probably as confused as I am. What is she talking about? It’s another bout of writer’s angst. Rabbit trails, and the fox on the hunt. And don’t ask what that means because I have no idea. Am I the rabbit, hopping this way and that? Who is the fox? Maybe I’m both: the one running and the one giving chase.