Saturday, March 1, 2014

What the hell?

I don't think I'll ever figure out this writing business.  On good days I might have a reasonable grasp of the basics - grammer, speling, and dikshun.  On other days pounding a single bit of dross on my writer's anvil is pure torture. In the end some words gets produced each day and eventually they start to make sense.

What puzzles me is how this happens.  I struggle with an idea for weeks, spend more time on pounding out a draft, even more effort into editing, editing, editing and still being unsatisfied.

Finally, I put it aside to be worked on later, hoping that the creative  muse will grant me a vision of how to get this off my plate.  The put-aside to later pile grows and grows, seemingly without end.

Then one day I might pick one from the pile and struggle a bit before the structure, pace, and content becomes blindingly clear.  The words then flow like liquid gold, phrases sing in dulcet tones, and the story rises above its stumbling beginnings to look as if it had been dashed off without a moment's hesitation.

I don't understand the why of this or do I question its source, but each time it happens I am deeply grateful.  My muse is a capricious bitch, but I love her nevertheless.


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