I can tell now the times when I need a break from fiction - the story turns into swirly mist, and the desire to write it dries up like Texas dirt in summer.
That's what happened to my last one, last week. It went absolutely nowhere, except into my trash icon.
So my mind is clear of ideas at the moment...which means I need to do some more reading...
Most of my nervous writing energy goes to other things at times like that. Being able to write is a useful skill, and I have many amongst my family and friends with writing needs.
"Honey, can you take a look at this blog post? Can we get that cleaned up and ready to post tonight?"
"Mom! I'm screwed! Can you help me organize my college essays?"
"I just wrote a new book, and I need some Amazon reviewers for when it's released...would you mind?"
"My new short film script is ready. Could you make some quick edits? We want to start shooting tomorrow..."
Most times I love getting requests like this. It makes me feel so useful, which I like, and I'm grateful for. It's a lovely feeling to be able to make someone else look better in their writing.
But too much of it, and I start to feel somewhat lost.
Like there are millions of words out there, floating around, garnering people awards, getting thousands of page views, getting As and college scholarships...but nothing with my name of it, to say that I was actually here, and that I actually did something well.
That was one reason for writing my book, "Sanctuary". At the bottom of all my motivation, I just wanted to create something to prove I'd been here. Don't we all?
My grandmother and mother-in-law made quilts, I write stories.
Because I can't sew to save my life. If I had to wear only things I'd sewn, I'd wear only pillowcases.
And I write pretty good.
To each her own...
This week I'm reading "Sredni Vastar" by Saki, a writer who reminds me a lot of Rudyard Kipling in a lot of ways. You can see the influence there in his stories. Not as moral in his writing as Kipling, but the stories I've read so far have been very entertaining and just a little bit twisted, which I tend to like.
I also love the Indian influence. Munro spent a lot of time in the military, and some of that time in India.
His work also influenced several other of my favorite writers, such as Winnie the Poo's A.A. Milne and Jeeves and Wooster's P.G. Wodehouse.
If you've ever felt the oppressive hand of a bully, this story is for you...come back tomorrow for the beginning...
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