The evil of all evils has returned. The silly of all sillies has befuddle me. The dark passenger of corruption has slipped into my backseat. And nope, I’m not talking about Congress.
I’m suffering a wee bit of writer’s block right now. It hasn’t happened for a couple of years, but it’s gripping me like bad food poisoning in the middle of the night in a house with faulty plumbing. It’s painful and downright stinks.
I was asked last month to write a story for an upcoming anthology benefiting cemeteries in one of America’s spookiest cities, New Orleans, Louisiana. What else can I say about that other than the fact that I felt honored and blessed. I’ve wanted to make my mark on the literary world since I first picked up a crayon, so I know better than to turn down an opportunity such as this: a chance to work with other admired writers, show a bit of diversity with my stories, promote it with my fellow co-authors next spring and really expand my readership as I hit the downward slope of the novel. It’s a big step in the right direction. So, why am I having trouble writing it? Guaranteed publication should be enough of a motivation, but negative thoughts are drowning out the “go me!”s.
I have a great story in mind about a grieving mother tricked by a con-man in a rather infamous cemetery in England. All the elements are there: my setting is in England, I’m writing English characters; I’m writing in 2nd person narrative, I have suspense, drama and mystery. I have a great hook. So what’s the problem?
Granted, I’ve had to take a break from the novel to take on this endeavor. And I’m at a really good place in the novel after having a great month with my October Wine & Write. Like, a really GOOD place with my characters, action, and moving the plot forward. Some writers may say it’s a bad place to stop, but I feel I have a lot to prove with this new short story, so I need to put my entire story telling focus into it. And once it’s over I can get back to the novel, which quite frankly, consumes all my thoughts anyway.
Hell, along with the plotting and writing, I’m even having trouble with coming up with a decent title.
All this whining can be easily categorized as “Writer’s problems”, I’m sure. I want to write something with meaning. I want to write something to impress. Yet, I have fear of letting my fellow co-writers down. This is normal, right?
I know it can be done. It can be done. It CAN be DONE! I’ve been writing solid for the last 2 years. I produced 20 short stories in college, half of which are published or scheduled to be published in the next year. This is only a temporary matter. Right?
Either way, I decided to update my blog today; get my head in the right space for writing and sit down and throw out the excuses. Maybe I just need to open up some whiskey, light a cigar, spear an animal and channel the spirit of Hemingway until I have a first draft. The great thing about summoning the spirit of Hemingway is that you’ll never know what you’ll get in the end. It might be a great story, it might be a shot through the leg, it might be an STD. Let’s hope for the story instead.