Ever have one of those writing sessions where everything goes right and your fingers are flying and your mind is on fire with ideas and great prose and sweaty-palm tension?
If your answer is yes, I’m jealous.
After several months of pushing aside my writing in favor of client edits, I thought I’d be chomping at the bit to work with the creative side of my brain for a while. And I was—am. But apparently, I’m rusty. After yesterday’s session, I figure I’d do better if I dumped my computer in the pond and started selling wilted roses at highway intersections.
There are days when the joy of writing bubbles forth from the champagne bottle of sparkling words and heady inspiration. And then there are days like yesterday. What’s a girl to do?
Well, first I decided to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a glass of chocolate milk, giving in to the childish side of me who really wanted to lay on the floor and throw a hissy-fit. As I spread the strawberry jam on 7-grain bread (the only adult thing about this scenario), I continued sulking over my failed writing session.
Then, as I dug out the chunky Jiff, I realized what was wrong with my piece. No tension. No conflict. Lots of description of the scene and characters, a little feeble humor, but nothing to drive the reader deeper into the story.
The good news is, I knew just how to fix it.
What should I say is the moral of this story? Menial tasks spur creativity? Never quit? Give in to your PB&J cravings? Hissy-fits are counterproductive (not to mention unseemly) for anyone over six?
Who knows. I figured out the problem. I’m happy. I turned a bad writing day into a good one. Feel free to come up with the moral yourself.
Writing. Gotta love it.