So, here I sit, the imprints from the keyboard scarring my forehead, my hair, or what’s left of it, jutting in spiky clumps, my coffee lukewarm and untouched.
Lukewarm. Seems my coffee is more in tune with me than I know.
You might think I’m stuck at a writer’s block, but I’m not. I’m stuck in Neverland. I’m spinning my wheels. I’m firmly entrenched in between. Neither here, but certainly not there. I really want to be there and every time I feel like I’ve made good solid progress, I look up to find I haven’t budged an inch. Off from a meteoric start only to be stalled in the middle.
I’m not moaning, believe it or not, I’m stating a fact. It’s just that, like Alice, I can see the door, but I can’t seem to fit through. They say that Rome wasn’t built-in a day and now I know why. The foundation they laid is miles deep and acres wide. Far too substantial for the building that perches atop.
I think I’m missing something, the thing is I don’t know what it is. So now I sit. The ideas are there, I just can’t plant my butt or focus my mind enough to flesh them out.
I’ve plateaued. It’s a long way back down, but a quick descent, while the ascent stretches on, up and out of sight and the climb is slow and arduous.
But I keep climbing because once in a while, I see brief flashes of light. Moments when I hear my writing has made an impression on someone. It’s not like I go looking for praise. Quite the opposite, I want to know exactly where I’ve failed so that I can fix it. That said, every now and again, it’s nice to hear that I did something right. Afterall, I am still learning. I think my problem is that I’ve never held much stock in preconceived notions. If I hear of one, I go out of my way to prove it wrong. Unfortunately for me, more time than not I succeed only to be met with a stonewall of “because”.
So I apologize for my silence lately. I am in steeping mode. I have no excuses. I can only promise to try harder. I’d say I need some extended time to write, but I did nothing, or felt I did nothing, with my year off. I think I need an assistant, someone to read, keep me on track, offer guidance. Essentially my very own writing coach. Someone like Rocky’s coach Mickey Goldmill. Can’t you just hear it now? “The worst thing that happened to you, that can happen to any
fighter writer: you got civilized.”
Well, I’m off to have the first 21000 words of Appetites dissected. I then have to come back, work on Echoes, write more for Appetites and polish up The Last Gift to be submitted to Spectral Press.
Now, what order do the A, S, D and F keys go back on the keyboard? How am I ever going to find the R.A.W. website if I can’t get the keys back on?