staring out the window edition…
much of my “writing” gets done staring out of the window. i also rock back and forth in my chair, mumble. i hate it, not only because it makes me look like a crazy (ier) person, but because it doesn’t feel like writing. thank goodness i understand that this is just as important as the words. in this space is where the big themes bounce around in my head. sometimes it feels like an idea map, just not written down. i intend to make work with layers and layers of meaning so i need time to just work on architecture. i don’t feel safe here. there is no map, i must make the map. this is where my “who does she think she is” voice rises up in me and literally i feel like i’m choking. it makes perfect sense that my throat chakra would get all out of wack. it is where i have to admit that i’m writing about love and history and “big” stuff. i don’t have a trick for this part. when i’m clocking pages, i tell myself that i’m just the secretary. but this plotting, underpinning mapping space it is a murky place and i always worry that i will never find my way to the “safer” place of pages and wordcounts. but i always do.
If your book is as good as Dream Season, it’ll be worth all the rocking and mumbling! You, my friend, can WRITE!
If your book is as good as Dream Season, it’ll be worth all the rocking and mumbling! You, my friend, can WRITE!