Glamour! Fame, glory, fortune! Adulation! You name it: Writers have it all! And we’re notorious for temper tantrums if we don’t get our way! I mean it! The horror and the stress! We face this every day in our minds as we write the stories we must tell.
Far from the glitz and paparazzi, a writer’s life is filled with hard work, family drama, spouse issues, pet worries, job insecurity, household chores, and the seriously mundane. In short, I see no glamour or fame or riches.
So why do it? Because it is as natural as breathing. Because it is quintessential to my existence. And because you wouldn’t be you without it.
Days can go by where the writing stagnates. Weeks pass where the writing flows and the zone takes over. Months fly by as you disentangle the snags and snarls, power through the energising scenes, limp across the “necessary but don’t wanna writ it” developments, and then dart across the finish where “The End” lets you breathe again. Till you ever-devious critic (you) squeaks, “Editing time. Hope you’re ready to be torn apart. By. Your. Self.”
Up. Down. Seesaw. Round and round the merry-go-round. Up the ladder. Down the slide. Over the obstacle course, through the climbing frame. Across the faux wood chips to the swings. Too high. Too low. Off and on. Then hop on the bouncy castle and leave at dusk to sleep, only to do it all again your dreams. But add a dark undertone and ambient lighting for a more dramatic effect.
Rinse. Repeat. Continue.