This would be so much easier if there was a finished product already: if there were a dozen chapters written and ready for press. But there isn’t and there aren’t.
This is my third, official, day without a corporate job. Only three days that I’ve not had to set an alarm clock or put on “real” clothes. Yoga pants and t-shirts for me, thank you very much.
Day 3 and I am struggling.
The laundry is done, the bathrooms are clean, the meals are all planned out for the rest of the week. I’ve watched so much Grey’s Anatomy that I am, literally, dreaming of episodes where I am a cast member.
Yes, I’ve written some, but my thoughts are scattered. I can’t find a flow. Last week, there were a hundred thoughts swirling around my brain and my notebook is full of brain-dumping evidence. But I cannot make sense of any of it at the moment.
My new mentor says I should try outlining. I did, briefly, and found myself offended by the process. I don’t plan on what I write, I just write. I’m a feeler, not a thinker.
She’s challenging me to stretch.
I’m sore from all the stretching.
But…I know that there is no magic bullet; no easy button.
I know that I must be diligent and committed and write even when it doesn’t feel natural or flow like water over a fall. I know that even if I peck out the words, slowly and painfully, like a faucet dripping in the middle of the night, I need to get it done.
I am only human.
Thanks for listening to me rant.