The time is 9:16 PM. I started my day at around 5:00 PM – the life of a nighthawk in play. I have less than fifteen minutes before I must begin work. But for your sake, so you’re not wondering of my absence, I’ll tell you about words.
Sometimes they have a hard time coming out. One moment you could be sitting at the desk, the pad, your weapon of choice, and you feel yourself channeling Shakespeare – or maybe just imitating – but either way, the moment is exhilarating. But then, sometimes, you feel yourself falling off the top of the world, and your progress seems nothing more than a snail’s tangent.
That’s the feeling that destroys a writer. When sitting down to type isn’t far beneath “ripping off fingernails” on your personal list of unpleasant experiences. Thankfully, I feel that skin beginning to shed. The truth is that often I’m afraid to write. Words, though they may seem insignificant at the time, are a strange reflection. What you write may not be true, but the way it feels, the thoughts and emotions that come to mind: they all come from somewhere.
Though this deadline feels monumental, though the idea of completion is one of the most intimidating, we the writers, must carry on. After a few hours to contemplate and reminisce, I work on some kind of illustration. Sometimes it’s for a project, sometimes just letting my mind do its thing. After an hour of this, I sit down to write. Two hours a day. At least. No exceptions. In that time, I may finish a thousand words, or much more. Why am I doing this? It must be done. That’s it. The story must be told, come trials, rain, hail, or any general terrible weather.
I urge you to get your words down today. Even if you missed them yesterday, and the day before, and so on, so forth. Tell the story, because you’re the only one to tell it in your way.
My fifteen minutes are just about up. Less than a minute to get this posted.
Good luck, writers, readers.
I’ll keep you posted.