I have been blocked for months, guys. Months of staring at the blank white screen and wondering where my inspiration ran away to. It has been incredibly frustrating and annoying and I have wanted to throw things. But I’m glad I didn’t.
Because sometimes all it takes is a good book.
I just needed that push over the edge. Words that inspire and characters who make me think.
I have been hip-deep in this dry spell for months. I haven’t wanted to write more than these blog posts every week. I mean, obviously, I keep writing. It’s what you gotta do even when the words won’t come and you feel like this all the time:
Then I went to see an amazing writer read from his new book.
I sat in the second row and listened to him talk about the characters and the settings and how he sat down to write not a novel, but a short story for his wife who he missed. It was this intense moment of vulnerability in his voice that I hadn’t been expecting. And then he started reading, and when I took the book home and proceeded to devour it on my commute in the days that followed, I could only hear the words in my head in his voice.
It helped, probably, that he has a great British accent.
But anyway, I digress.
The long and short of it is that I stepped out of the theater that night with a picture in my head, something that is surprisingly a common occurrence in my writing process. And I actually sat down and started writing it. On the train. Sitting awkwardly with my laptop perched on top of my tote bag.
It’s not there yet. I only have a few pages. But it feels so good to listen to my fingers hit the keyboard and see words appear on the screen.
My characters aren’t fully formed nor is my story, but I can see plot points unfurling in front of me.
Now excuse me. I have fairies who live in books whose adventures will not write themselves.
P.S. You should go read Neil Gaiman’s new book. Oh. My. God.
Featured image via me