September 20, 2011

“The easiest thing to do on earth is not write.” (William Goldman)

Posted in On Writing at 11:50 am by Michelle K.

Wow. I couldn’t have said it better. For the better part of a year, I have found excuse after excuse to not write. It hasn’t been difficult. Real life rears its ugly head in a myriad of ways … and it’s easy to become entrenched in the day-to-day without any thought about working through the stress of creating something new. I bow my head in shame, because really, I’ve enjoyed the act of not writing. Perhaps a little too much.

I’d been away from the exercise for so long, I actually forgot how much I love it. I enjoy writing as much as I enjoy not writing. When all is going well … and even when it’s not … the practice of writing has its own rewards.  There’s the excitement of finding the perfect word/phrase/sentence – even when it takes days or weeks to dig it up. There’s the sense of accomplishment when one spends an hour or two bent low over the keyboard or journal, allowing the muse to go where it may, and actually finds something worthwhile in the mire – even if it’s just a cool word, or a concept to be used later. And there’s that amazing feeling one gets just from the doing … the sense that the mind and heart and soul are getting some much needed nourishment and a great escape from the daily drudgery that is real life.

I’d nearly forgotten all of this. For so many months, I looked at writing as a chore. The inspiration was lost. I was bored … with my story, with myself. I’m reminded again of Jack London: You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club. Problem is, I haven’t much felt like chasing after it. I put my club in a closet and shut the door.

But here I am now, a year later, and what have I to show for all this time? Nothing. My club sits in the closet, gathering dust, and I sit at my computer reading Facebook statuses and articles at Cracked.com. Sure, these things are enjoyable, but they don’t really leave me with a great sense of accomplishment.

And this lack of accomplishment hurts my pride far more than feeling that my writing is sub-par. I mean, how can I expect my writing to improve, if I don’t actually write?  I’m heartily ashamed of myself.

At least I can come back! It’s never too late to pick up that pen. I suppose that’s the real beauty of any art: no matter how long you stay away, coming back is … if not exactly easy … then at least, doable. It may take awhile for the muse to fire up again (and there may be a fair amount of kicking and screaming until she does), but the exercise is still there. Ready and waiting.

With that in mind, I’ve finally “completed” and sent Chapter 20 to my trusted editor. It feels … amazing. And this feeling is a reminder of all I’ve missed in the past year. So going forward, I won’t let so much time pass. I’m going to write. Regularly. On a schedule. I’m going to do it because I want to.

Nothing like a New Year’s resolution in September, but hey … it can’t hurt to get an early start.

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