I turned to my sister tonight. She has gotten her own book published. It is a non-fiction art piece, but the concept of writing a book is all the same, genre aside. I explained my situation to her, in hopes she had some secret to success that might help me…
Getting my many ideas and thoughts onto my open word document is a lot harder than one might think, especially when your tooth is throbbing with each breath you take. I have created the main characters, plot, back story, and a few details that are needed. I get on a roll, pages get written. I wrote six pages in a period of two hours or so (during naptime of course). My ideas flowing effortlessly from my fingertips. And then, out of no where, I am stumped again. Sometimes, I wish I were great at what I do without much practice.
Her word were simple: practice makes perfect, my love.
Sometimes, I just want to do want to start banging my head on the computer. Dammit, I know she is right by a landslide, but I just want to bash my head into the keyboard! My sister has never steered me wrong and pointed me every right direction. I love her. However, her words sometimes gets me feeling like a fish eating a hooked worm. I hungrily seek out her guidance and get reeled into a truth I sometimes don’t want to be involved with. I love hearing all the things she has to tell me and I never ignore any of it. I may not want to hear it, but I am grateful she is completely honest and there for me. Sometimes, I just want to be lied to, like “writing will always be easy, filled with rainbows, unicorns, and daisies!” (Not really.)
I am going to open my Microsoft Word and get back to writing. Little one is in bed, giving me the time to write.