The last four months have been a struggle. It’s been hard to grow as a writer. I could not get started on the Cowboy Tale this morning, but instead of getting up for a run or to eat or to do anything but sit here looking at a blank screen, I remained at my writing desk. This is a first for me. Usually I opt for a distraction based on wobbly reasons rather than keeping my feet and seat firmly planted. Creating a finished piece of art is hard. I’ve been reluctant to work so hard and thus my book, my podcast and my blog have fallen silent. Still I just keep getting back up on the horse!
For a moment my ego peeked its ugly head into the creative process. My ego had been cast aside, forgotten as I dove head first into my imagination, writing and rewriting and rewriting. Remarkably, and rewarding, from somewhere within the jumble of my thoughts the characters began developing as if they were actually stepping off the pages onto my keyboard and writing the story their own damn selves! Perhaps I should blame the characters for the horrendous critiques spat like acid on me by my first three readers? No? Well, it was just a thought. In fact, and true to my past 50 years, I am only distracting myself from the work needed to produce something worth doing. Seeking whatever reason to quit something that I enjoy doing but is now requiring even more time and effort.
Writing your first manuscript or completing a work of art challenges every fiber of our being. Our brain goes into hyper activity producing massive volumes of self doubt and creating distractions to save us from utter failure and embarrassment. It's the world of gray matter. And its all shite.