Tuesday, June 8, 2010

I Hate My House I Love My House

Soo...if any of you have been following me on Facebook or know me as a friend, you know I have been struggling with my writing. The truth is I haven't written anything of consequence in a dog's age. (Don't worry, I have enough backlog in books to keep you in fresh material for a long time to come.) Now, it might be professional suicide to share this with you, but I have committed suicide before and am still here to tell the tale, and I have always shared everything with you all and I am not about to start pulling my punches.

Truth is, all writers go through writer's block...or periods of feeling drained of their creativity. What I speak of is not new phenomenon. Some of the most famous authors you know were plagued by the writer's block beast. But for me it's not so much a block as it is...my inner child wants to play not work not ever so nah!

I am 170lbs lighter than I was. I can wear gorgeous clothes and shoes. I can get on planes and fit in the seats. I can travel everywhere. I can do just about anything! Why oh why would I want to sit here, in front of the computer, in this seat that I was trapped in under fat and infirmity for DECADES in this dark spot in my house?? I existed in that spot, unmoving, unliving, uneverything. Now...I loathe it. I loathe sitting in one spot. I loathe being in my house. I loathe this computer screen I have stared at for every single day for so damn long.

I want to PLAY! I want to shop! I want to go out and go dancing and run on a beach and do things people do to have fun. I want to conquer my fears and do some crazy ass shit while I'm still young enough to do so. Because, you see, it snuk up on me so fast last time. One day I was young and healthy (albeit overweight. Have been since I was 15) and then the next...(so it seemed) I couldn't even climb a set of three stairs. I couldn't walk through a store. I had to go to Wal Mart or Target only because they were the only ones who had electric carts. I had to buy a one story house (I have a 'bonus' room though which is up over the garage. I lived in this house for almost 2 years before I was able to even see it!)

The point is, I feel like I've wasted so much time and, despite the weight loss, I am still not all that healthy. (People marvel at how much meds I am on. Granted it's a few less now than before...) What if I spend all this great time sitting on my ass and suddenly...bam! It's all gone again?

But like I said in my title...I hate my house....but I love my house. I want to keep it. I want to keep my car. I want all those little things that come with a paycheck. So...this girl's got to work. It's not as though I want to be irresponsible. It's not that I want to quit and never write again. I love to write. I love to make up stories. I like to create unique worlds that blow your socks off. :) (My agent and my editors and publishers are going to be very glad to hear this part) So here's the thing. How do I write and stay focused when my inner child is whining that it wants to go out and play?

On top of all of this, I'm stuck in my own head. Or maybe even my own ego. I sit here thinking whatever I do next has to be UTTERLY SPECTACULAR!! It has to outshine everything I have ever done before AND it has to be strides ahead of the tremendous talent that is out there in my genre. (And those who aren't tremendously talented but somehow popular just the same). I have to write a NYT Bestseller that outdoes myself...and can do battle with everyone else. And then once I do that..OMG I have to do it again! And again!

And crap, I gotta pay taxes, too.

Not too much pressure, eh? This is the essence of writer's block. A writer who gets stuck in the pressures and minutiae in their own minds. All of the above mentioned crap AND the daily list of things in their personal and business lives that they swim in.

But I think I found a solution. For me anyway. I'm taking it Old School. I'm leaving the laptop at home, leaving home at home, and with nothing but a wire bound journal and a favorite pen, (well, ok so i do take my cell) I am going out and finding quiet nooks and crannies where I can sit, enjoying the OUT THERE out there, and yet focusing completely on writing. This is how I did it when I was a kid. Back when teachers thought I was the most diligent notetaker in class? That was me writing reams and reams of stories, perfecting what would one day become a craft. The spiral notebook was my original laptop. I had forgotten how much I love the feel of pen drawing over paper. There's sometimes a few moments that it takes to write a word vs. typing a word that allows your brain to jump to the next thought.

Now, the downside..no delete key, no backup files (save me if I drop today's gel inks--my favorites--in a puddle), and I have to retype the whole thing over again eventually anyway. So this is strictly for creative purposes only. Perhaps just to get me started. I am considering an IPad...strictly for the purposes of being able to carry it in my purse everywhere at all times without having to lug a laptop hither and yon. The laptop isn't big, just...inconvenient. But I don't know if an IPad is easy to type on. Still, it can't be any slower than using a pen, right?

Maybe I'll stick with the low tech solution. For now it feels good. I can't tell you how many words I've written...for some reason the damn journal refuses to tell me!

Hugs and Kitties

PS: So far Barnes and Noble and the Library have been tried out. B and N is nice, but there's a lot of pressure in those bookshelves. The library has no pressure because they don't have a single damn book in my genre from what I can see, but it was really freaking noisy after 2pm. Any other suggestions? I need a chair that's comfy that I can cross my legs in and prop the journal on my knee. Oh, hey! My therapist's waiting room was nice. Wonder if they'll let me haunt it. :P

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