Some days I am so lazy, it’s a wonder I have a heartbeat. Others, I can out work and out produce anyone. I am capable of forecasting neither.
It’s rare for me to get on a “planned” writing streak. In fact, such a thing has only occurred once (with success) in the last three years. That definitely qualifies as rare. Do I lack the necessary mental and emotional ingredients to learn and exert self-discipline in my creative outlet of choice? Needing to know the answer to that question led me to experimenting with various routines. Somewhere along the line, though, I tend to deviate from planned routines and squirrel… whatever.
Fact is I’m a damn grownup now, so I guess the most important routines to maintain include getting up on time for work and remembering to pay my bills with acceptable regularity. Perhaps taking hold of this reality is the origin of years’ worth of melancholy — I might be on to something. Anyway, I’ve learned to take the writing as it comes. Like standing at the top of the hill with a butterfly net. Sometimes slumping with self-pity , sometimes in delighted anticipation. Sometimes looking off into the clouds wishing for the available technology to install a butterfly radar that maps trajectory from miles out, but that little gadget would require an outstanding user’s manual.
My intention for this chatter was actually to ask about what writing realities you have explored since taking on the suspect title of “writer”: Did you begin with the hopes of writing epic fiction and discover a knack for poetry or essay? Or, vice versa? Did you wrestle for months or years with the idea of a ROUTINE and win out? What is the most important self-discovery you have made since first acknowledging that you are, indeed, a writer? Seriously. I want to hear all about your writing woes and wins and personal discoveries.