Finally. I finished the scene in the seedy hotel room. I had to use a Muse bomb. Not Holly Lisle’s definition of a Muse bomb… hers is more literary and potentially more useful. No, my Muse bomb is where I can’t figure out how to get the people out of the dang scene and moved on to the next bit, so I literally throw a bomb at the characters. This time it was my nefarious antag’s son’s henchmen throwing it. And actually, it worked out really well. The main protag and another character are now forced into an alliance, the bad guys have the complete upper hand, now having their real kidnap target in their possession, and the stakes have gone from being high to astronomical.
Not bad for only 500 words.
That was all it took to finish the dang scene. And it only took me a month. Sheesh! That’s, what… like 16 words a day. It will be 2012 before I get to type THE END at this rate. Just in time for the world to end. Somehow that’s fitting…
And sadly, even though I’ve finished the scene and have the big rescue all set up to write, the momentum is still not there. I can’t seem to get my head back in the game. I feel like Corwin of Amber, navigating the final arc of the Pattern. Every footstep takes a lifetime, every inch forward a herculean effort. And I don’t think it has anything to do with the story. I’m still convinced it’s fear — with a healthy dose of laziness thrown in. I can blame it on the dicey situation at work, but I’ve been living with the threat of them shuttering the business for a year now. I can blame it on the distraction of the whole car drama. I can even blame it on the Girl Scouts. It’s cookie sale time and I’m a Troop Leader for my daughter’s Brownie Troop. So between soliciting cookies sales at work, collecting cookie money and distributing cookies, I feel like I’m working a second job. Then, there’s the whole exercise and eat right thing. I’m trying really hard to eat right and exercise everyday (cause only the Gods know if I’ll have health insurance in a couple of months). So I’m cutting up fruit and vegetables and packaging them for lunch, putting together healthful casseroles the night before, so dinner is prepped and ready to be made the next evening, or loading up the crock pot so I can switch it on in the morning before I leave the house. And working out on the dreadmill or the cucumber bike (that’s my daughter’s name for the recumbent bike) every evening for 30-45 minutes. So that takes a huge chunk out of the three hours I have in the evening. Not to mention dishes, laundry, doing homework with my daughter, and every other little damn thing.
So. Lot’s of distractions and excuses. And after all my obligations are done, I plop down in front of the TV because, I deserve some relaxation time, right? I mean, I work my butt off, surely I deserve to watch an episode of Royal Pains or NCIS, right? Or maybe read a book for an hour, right? Right?
Yeah, I can hear you out there, jeering, booing. Jabbing your righteous sticks through the bars of my self-imposed cage. “Sheesh,” you say. “It would only take you 20 minutes to cobble together 500 words. Surely you can find 20 minutes a day.”
Or maybe, “You just don’t want this bad enough. If you did, you’d stay dedicated to it. That’s what real successful writers do.”
In my writing courses, I always tell students that it’s about creating habits. That if you write everyday, you’re more likely to be able to write every day. You train the brain by repetition. So why am I having so much trouble taking my own advice? What pay off am I experiencing that keeps me from working towards the goal that has driven me since I was four years old and able to put words on paper?
Or are you people right? Am I just too lazy? Do I just not have what it takes, because I lack both the dedication and the discipline?
Ooooh. Now you’ve done it. You’ve gone and thrown down the gauntlet. Nobody tells me I can’t do something. Nobody tells me I’m not good enough (except of course, for myself).
So you challenge me to write 500 words a day, do you? And you’re really sure I can’t do it, aren’t you? Because of my track record to date.
Well… I’ll show you! PHHHBBBTTTTTT!!!!!
Okay. Off to write 500 words. (mutter mutter grumble grumble can’t tell me what I can and cannot do I’ll show them no faith am not lazy mutter mutter) Oh and just so I can have the last word, your mother is a hamster and your father smells of elderberries! Haha!