Thursday, August 6, 2009

It's all in what you write

I realized around four o'clock this morning that it wasn't that I was distracted from writing, but that my writing was distracting. Let me explain. No, that would take to long. Let me summarize. I wrote a book in ten days. Lots of words in a few days. The story flew. I knew that this was just the first book in a series, so I decided that I needed to write the next book. Right? Well, maybe. But I truly don't know the entire story of my next book. I know who I want it to be about and I know what basically needs to happen. But it isn't all worked out. Not like I need it to be. I still want to write. Still need to write. But looking at Carlos' story and not knowing how he was going to get from the library to the end of the book (which would be at least 50,000 words worth of stuff going on) was not working. But Susan tapped me on the shoulder at four forty-five (right as I was about to get back to sleep) and said, "Psst. You know, I really like that you have written that new series. It's a great story and if I were a real life editor I would sign you in a heartbeat. However, you seem to have forgotten that I exist and I'm sitting here dangling in a Catholic confessional. Could you please get back to my story. I really want to see if I end up with this guy or if my story is going to end with my life as boring as when the story began." (If you haven't picked up on this Susan is a character in one of my books.)

So I went back to Susan. (Everyone will be happy to know she is no longer dangling in a Catholic confessional.) And the words flowed again. It's nice to know that your mojo/inspiration/muse/talent/desire hasn't left you. Sometimes you just have to take a break from what you feel you need to do and concentrate on something else.

I think that is true with knitting (or fill in your favorite) projects as well. Sometimes I will be knitting along and I can barely make it through a row. I have no inspiration to work on the project at hand. It usually isn't difficult and doesn't take much in the way of brain power to do. Sometimes it is simply endless rounds of stockinette stitch in the round on a pair of socks. The kind you could do in your sleep (or a dark movie theater.) But for some reason it is like molasses pouring on a winter day. That's when you know it is time to switch projects. Pull out that sweater you were working on a few months ago or cast on a new hat. Dig through your stash and find those four balls of Plymouth Kudo and realize that there is a pattern out there calling it's name or crack open that new Cookie A book and design yourself something to go with that sock yarn you purchased on the yarn crawl three years ago.

Things just flow so much better when you are wanting to work in them rather than when you feel you have to.

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