Okay, so we’ve discussed my “new” (old?) life in yesterday’s installment and that brings us to what the heck is holding me back from getting started on my next book. The answer is as simple as it is embarrassing:
One of the most consistent “rules” about writing (call it a suggestion or a recommendation, if you prefer) is that all writers should constantly write. Reading helps. Living is especially valuable. None of that matters if the writer doesn’t write.
I make a big deal about my preference to write outdoors (at the beach, in the best of times). But I have occasionally managed to bang out some pages simply sitting on my patio or (heavens!) even in front of this desktop. It did happen once or twice.
I’m not a prolific writer. I can’t slam out prose on an idea like a geyser. I need to bang it around and change it and then change it several more times in my head before I’ll even begin the plot outline.
My two-sided nature is constantly at war. My pragmatic side often trumps my creative side, though the “victory” is surely self-defeating. There is no “cost” to me writing, only in publishing that writing. That cost is both monetary and spiritual. Yet, is there a point to writing if you’re not going to publish? That’s the battle that wages at the same time as my idea is percolating.
Sometimes, though, the idea is strong enough to push through the chatter, like those cartoon scenes where a character squeezes out from under a fight pile and walks away while the fight continues oblivious.
I’ve finally reached that point with my current idea. I’ll be working on the plot outline this week and then the detailed outline next week. And lo, the weather seems to be heading towards something more recognizable as from Florida, so perhaps my timing is not so bad after all.
If things go as planned, at least my book will not be unwritten any more.