Here’s the thing, some days I am convinced that I am a creative genius—and then other days I am convinced I am a blathering idiot lacking even two brain cells to rub together that would produce a new thought. Today is one such day---for the former, not the latter. This seems to happen when I begin a new novel. Which I am in the process of right this very minute. It’s another middle grade novel. I’d tell you what it’s about but then I’d have to well, you know, do away with myself. You see, talking about a project too soon can have some really detrimental effects upon a work in progress or as I like to call it, at least at this stage, the POG or Piece of Garbage. Someday it will become something better, an actual WIP or Work in Progress but for six weeks at least, it’s a POG, a big fat POG that haunts my every waking thought and well, some of my non-waking thoughts. But such I think is the fate of the writer and maybe any artist. There is a time for everything, according to Ecclesiastes (how insightful is that? But a topic for another post) and so that means there will come a time for my now nebulous, gray, although I am beginning to see fringes of color, story to quicken, spring to life. It’s kind of like watching one of those step photography shorts, the time lapse video of a peach being born—from flower to full fledged fruit.
But until then I will muddle and strain and plead with myself to come up with the story, to sift through the ideas and make something good. It will happen. But for now I am in this idiot phase and that’s okay. It’s part of the process. How about you? Do you struggle at the beginning? Do you struggle with wanting to discuss it with a friend, to brainstorm ideas, plot points? I do, and yes, there will come a time when I will feel secure enough with the idea, when it be solidified enough for me to discuss. But until then, I blather and wince and stare into the abyss a lot. I procrastinate, play video games, cross stitch, read, and wait upon the muse. She’ll show up. The trick I think is in not walking away, not expecting the muse to knock down your door. I’m convince the muse waits and watches as we struggle. It’s the only way she’ll come.It's kind of game she likes to play. Don't fight it.