Remember when you were a kid, and you’d daydream stories to tell yourself as you drifted off to sleep, or lay in the summer grass and stared into the cloudless sky?
Or maybe, like Terry Burns describes in Writing in Obedience, you and your siblings would spend an afternoon spinning a tale between you of some cops and robbers scenario–a make-believe game you had every intention to play.
“I’ll do this!”
“Yeah, and then I’ll do that!
“Yeah, and then something else will happen!”
And then, and then, and then . . . !
You had an idea, and as it played out in your mind, you’d say “and then” when the next scene or action occurred to you. Sometimes it all happened so fast, you’d have the story completed before you fell asleep, and you’d stay up for hours revising it in your mind, or you’d spend the day telling each other the action scenes and never get around to playing them before the call to supper came.
“And thens” are necessary when fleshing out a story. It’s all well and good that you have your characters drawn out perfectly, that you know what you want to ultimately happen to each of them as the book comes to a close, that you have a few gripping chapters already written and a dramatic climax already outlined in your head. If you don’t know how you’re going to get your well-drawn characters to that dramatic climax, you’re dead in the water.
Well, look for me at the bottom of the lake.
Seriously. My “and then” is broken. This is what I’ve been talking about in the posts in which I reveal my fear of being a fraud. I have some killer opening chapters on several manuscripts, and all those manuscripts die somewhere after the fifth chapter because I can’t seem to figure out a series of actions to get my characters where I want them to go.
How does this even happen? What makes imagination disappear, ideas evaporate?
My first thought is that I’ve overdosed on reality. Like it or not, I have responsibilities that weigh heavily on my mind and seem to drain every bit of imaginative thought. Which bugs the tar outta me–every writer has responsibilities. Why aren’t they paralyzed with the inability to come up with a viable series of “and thens”?
One of my Facebook friends, Sylvia Stewart, posts pictures of ideal writing getaways–little cottages in inspiring settings guaranteed to reunite the writer with her muse. I look longingly at those forested escapes, with the brooks babbling nearby, the sun shimmering between the shadows, the birds flitting from limb to limb. I peer into the hiding places of fawn and rabbit and squirrel, and I think, that’s what I need. A place with nothing more to concentrate on but the next “and then.” No distractions. No responsibilities. Nothing that needs to be fed or cleaned or otherwise tended to.
My own home is similar. My desk sits opposite a wall of windows overlooking the pond, the pines, the squirrels and birds at play. The difference is, this is my house, my source of responsibilities. I look at the windows and realize they need to be cleaned; I glance into the kitchen and think of what to prepare for supper; I cast my gaze toward the fireplace and know the ashes must be scraped out.
I need a writing space where I’m responsible for nothing more than writing. I need a writing sabbatical, a month away from everything and everyone.
But since that’s not likely to happen, I’ll have to discover another way to repair my broken “and then.”
Boy, do I understand how you feel. While I have tons of story ideas, the mechanics of publishing are dragging me under. I can barely get my nose above the water. Somewhere, somehow, there is a solution for both of us. I guess, if God can buy me house, and cure you (at least a good remission), He can help us find a way to write, since He obviously put that desire in our hearts. A wise saying I once read seems applicable. “God does feed the birds, but He doesn’t throw the seed into the feeder.” Yikes, sounds like we are meant to work at it. Even so, if He intends for us to to this, He has to give us a way to do it. He will surely open up the doors of opportunity and inspiration. Maybe we are trying too hard and need to let go of some things. Just my early -morning- before- my- second- cup- of- coffee- thoughts.
You’re far more coherent before your second cup of coffee than I am. 😀
Ahh, Linda, The dry seasons are what God gives for you to have more than the “and thens”…Seasons in life are the God-given breaks that allow us to re-charge and come back inspired. That’s when you hang on to God and forget the dirty windows and the non-essentials. Do the next thing—and God takes care of the rest.
Reminds me of my pinterest —little cabin in the woods—I think we all have dreams of a special place to write. Jeremiah wrote most of his book in prison. As a matter of fact, he lived his life telling an audience the ‘and then’s’ and they didn’t listen. Even after the destruction and takeover of his beloved country came, he was given an opportunity to go with the captives and be elevated to a good position with the king or stay with those left behind. He choose to stay behind—and they rejected his words again!
Take heart–your season of dryness brings deeper roots and stronger limbs that will enable better fruit. Your ‘and thens’ are there—just deeper than you can reach right now.
I’m thankful I don’t have to write my books from prison, but shows you can write anywhere, right?
Thanks so much for the encouragement!
Overly critical internal editor perhaps? That was really killing me for a while. Once I convinced the internal to shut up during first drafts, I actually started having fun again.
I bet that’s a big part of it. 😛