This is my entry into the monthly Insecure Writers' blog hop. To read posts from other participants, click here: Alex J. Cavanaugh, Insecure Writers Support Group.
Become a better writer by writing. I’ve been practicing this for three years now. I’m committed to improving. That’s why you are getting this “brain dump” of a blog post. I haven’t written anything of substance for a few weeks now, and someway, somehow, I’ve got to keep going, to keep chugging, to force myself to write even when no great inspiration percolates.
Dry spells come to all. I’ve had my share. Enough to know the way to get the word-water running again is to turn on the faucet and keep it on until thoughts work through the clog the way the degreaser powers through a hairball in your drain.
So I’m here, typing the keys, thinking about how the hot bean pad I have on my shoulder is burning my skin but not reducing the stiffness from sleeping wrong the night before last. Thinking about the farm we passed on our way to the mall the other morning, and how the rusted shell of an old tractor parked in front of two grain silos would make a lovely black and white photo if I can get back there again soon.
I’m pondering the “resting” WIP, and trying to figure out how so many writers write new works while editing others. I worry I’ve got too much singular focus to manage that, but if I want to keep writing I need to figure out how…
I’m thinking about my most recent blog post pertaining to a breakfast/lunch joint for South Shore Living and what a blast it was to write. On the other hand, last week's monthly contribution to the local newspaper on behalf of seniors didn’t flow—I’m not surprised because I wrote from an “assignment” frame of mind and not from a place of passion, as the subject matter didn’t touch me.
And lastly, I am thinking about The Artists Way and morning pages and how this spew of words on the page would be acceptable if they were in a notebook no one was going to read, but since they are here out in public, in hindsight, it's a strong possibility I'm going to wish I never clicked “publish.”
