My dream is that one day I will sit in front of the computer and the novels in my head will flow effortlessly onto the page. I know they are all ready to go in there. I’ve been cooking them, planning them, writing them in my head for years now. But for some reason their way out is convoluted, partial, snapped.
I wonder where it is that I get stuck. Is the block in my head? In my arms? Is it the critic sitting on my shoulder who has opinions about every word I write? Do I think too much about my ideas? Am I a perfectionist and think no word is good enough?
I really try not to be a perfectionist. I keep telling myself just to write, even if I don’t feel like writing. I tell myself the quality doesn’t matter because I can revise, delete, erase, reboot, even completely ignore what I wrote afterward. That is the wonder in writing on the computer. Anything can be done. But here I am, my usual me, with ideas overflowing to the stars, sitting before a blank page, or worse, a beginning which I then never continue for years at a time.
On my way to take the car to the garage for service this morning, I suddenly felt overwhelmed with a feeling that I’m trapped in my own life. I’m going to be forty in March. Half my life already has passed me by. And these novels, these wonderful creations which really ought to be shared with the rest of mankind, remain firmly locked up inside my head, and I cannot seem to find a way to let them out.
This is one reason why I am so excited about this blog. I’m not sure if it’s the instant gratification thing in seeing how many people have read each post, or if it’s that I’m limiting myself to no more than 500 words. I find myself glorying in the writing of each and every one. Yes, sometimes I get stuck. I may never post my first attempt yesterday at writing a blog about weirdness. Altogether, though, my enjoyment in writing it overrides all my blocks, and my thoughts flow onto the paper in a wish come true dream fulfillment fantasy that brings me even more joy.
What I really hope is that this fascination with blogging will influence the rest of my writing as well. Of course, if it’s really instant gratification which makes me enjoy my blog, then I will need to grow up a bit and learn patience with the rest of my writing. Or, alternatively, I could time-travel to nineteenth-century England and publish my novel one chapter at a time like Charles Dickens. Now there’s a thought that sounds grand! Or maybe another idea for a novel. Either way, I’m glad I’m writing, whether it’s a short post for the blog, or the next world best seller that will change everyone’s lives.