Okay, okay—so it sounded better, neater, tidier on paper: “I manage to carve out some time for my writing each day.” The less-than-lovely reality is that sometimes that treasured time amounts to only five minutes scraped together between my daughter’s bedtime and a late dinner, when I can whip open my laptop and make a quick, but pivotal, edit that’s been stuck in my head all day. If I get to sit down in a relatively quiet room for more than 20 uninterrupted minutes to focus on the words in front of me, or the ones flowing from my fingertips, I consider myself among the most fortunate. I’m thankful for even the small, spontaneous, stolen moments.
I discovered years ago that there’s no such thing as write-opia: a large clutter-free desk in an airy, high-ceilinged room with warm sunlight and a delicate breeze trickling in through a wall of windows overlooking the shimmering ocean. At least not at this stage of my life. Maybe someday…but who can afford to wait?
Likewise with waiting around for inspiration to “strike.” Yes, it’s thrilling to feel tapped into some external force that’s guiding your characters, your plot, your dialogue. You want to hold onto that connection, squeeze out every last glorious drop before you turn back into a pumpkin. But have you ever noticed that oftentimes, when you reread your writing the next day, it’s not quite as “inspired” as it seemed at the time?
Sometimes, the most rewarding writing happens on the most lackluster of days, in short, desperate spurts…and without a roaring blaze in the fireplace or a wide-open afternoon schedule. Your writing is always there, just waiting for you.
(And, frankly, so is inspiration, but that's a different post for a different day...Heather and I invite you to comment on any and all of our posts -- share your thoughts and opinions!)
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