Gently, a single tear falls upon the earth's face. Slowly, more drops follow, caressing the weeping willows until... Suddenly, a steady stream pounds and strikes with such force, relentlessly, until the clouds run dry.
Usually there are two types of writers: drafters and revisers.
I am so a reviser. I love taking something tangible and making it better...as close to perfection as possible. Playing with dialogue, rhythm, description, emotion, word choice...even when to start and end a paragraph.
Don't get me wrong...I love coming up with new concepts. And new characters, inciting incidents and themes. I have hundreds of ideas I haven't even touched yet. Words pour into my notebook old school style: pen to paper. But then after a day or three, I hit a wall.
My head gets in the way.
I start to doubt and anxiety takes hold. Would anybody really want to read this? How will I get from point A to point Z. Am I wasting my time? This is crap, I don't know what I'm doing, I should just quit.
I'm beginning my sixth book. You'd think after making it through 3 YA's and 2 picture books, I'd have the process down.
But fear doesn't discriminate. So, I continue to play with ways to get out of my head.
Taking a walk in nature and a bath work best for me. Turning on a timer for 15 minutes and writing with no filters. Dancing to a favorite song. Reading. Doodle. A writing prompt. Taking a pause...a minute or two of silence to allow my mind to say its peace.
What ways do you get out of your head and onto the page?
One of my favorite reasons to walk to the Pearl is to pass by the Mad Dog Garage and see what new interactive art is waiting to be played with.
Pedestrians place their hands on the window sensor to activate the kinetic sculptures. For months I was amazed at the creative genius, from my hand lighting a menorah to exposing a creepy Halloween clown smile.