Quote du Jour:
â€œYouâ€™re a wild woman. You stole panties. You ate pizza.â€
–Grace Hart, Miss Congeniality
The sky was a brilliant shade of pink this morning. It was literally breathtaking. When I came through the living room and saw the sunrise, I stopped in my tracks and went â€œWhoaâ€. It was so moving, I snatched the camera, opened the front door and stepped outside to take a picture. I didnâ€™t have time to download it from the camera this morning, so will have to post that tomorrow.
Weâ€™re going to the Busch race tomorrow at Texas Motor Speedway. My son has announced he wants to be a race car driver when he grows up (talk about striking fear into the heart of a motherâ€¦) and this will be his first live race.
While I went to my first NRH reading group at Barnes & Noble last night, Husband took the little boy to ride go carts. When I got home, my son told me he rammed into someone and he was all proud of himself.
I had a good time at the book group last night. Went with several friends from the chapter and we talked about books and writing while drinking our coffees. I fretted over the fact that Iâ€™m still stumped on my current novella and confessed my thoughts that if TDTM gets rejected, thatâ€™s it. Iâ€™m done writing. The response I got was gasps of horror and a big â€œNO YOU WILL NOTâ€. Of course I wonâ€™t. But for one split second, I thought about just quitting.
And after talking with them, too, I realized something. When I wrote TDTM (in a month and a half), I just had fun. I had no pressure on myself to write. I just did it to see if I could. Thatâ€™s why the fingers flew. I want that rush every time but as one of my friends pointed out, I wonâ€™t have that every time. And sheâ€™s right. I need to face up to that fact, get over myself, and just freaking write. You know? Sounds like good advice but when youâ€™re staring at a blank screen with no thoughts coming, itâ€™s tough. Tough to shut off that internal Voice of Doubt that whispers in your ear what a loser you are. How youâ€™ll never make it, never be published, never earn a dime off selling your work, never see your name in print. And then comes the depression because not only are you not writing, youâ€™ve got Writerâ€™s Doubt. And then the words refuse to come and youâ€™re back to staring at that blank screen again.
I guess half the battle is recognizing the weakness. Facing doubt and fear of never having another good (or any!) idea again. Fear that you canâ€™t pick up a pen or open your word processor and just write. Fear of failure. Failure that you canâ€™t write anymore because youâ€™ve blocked yourself so bad you canâ€™t make yourself go on. Canâ€™t jump that hurdle and JUST WRITE.
I know what I have to do. I have to banish those demons, with a flamethrower if necessary, and sit down and JUST FREAKING WRITE. Just write. Thatâ€™s all I have to do.
Sounds easy, huh?