the fickle nature of the writing life…or should I say, Meg

Nothing much to say.  Writing is going well.  At least it did today. 

Yesterday, I hit a huge brick wall, stared at my computer for way too long, trying to figure out where the next piece of the puzzle fit.  Then realized that the reason I couldn’t figure out what happened next is because nothing should happen next.  That I should s__t-can the whole kit-and-kaboodle.  That I was a lousy writer, would never write anything of note, and that I should just stop wasting my time.

I spent the rest of the day, trying to figure out how to spend the last third of my life, since being a writer was no longer an option.  I’d always wanted to learn how to make pottery.  I had met Chris Carter on a plane once and he had offered to show me the ropes.  I wondered if he still knew how to make pottery after all these years, but then dismissed it as one of my more preposterous ideas. 

The allure of theater raised it’s hibernating head.  I’d always wanted to do theater way back in the day, but it didn’t pay much and was a long commitment and I had small children to care for and support.  But now, with Will having only one more year of school, perhaps I could do a play.  A performance from beginning to end, no interruptions, no one yelling “cut”.  To get to dive into a character and stay there for the entire duration of the play, now that would be a luxury!  Or I always wanted to learn how to fix my own things.  I’ve done a carpentry course, but I could sign up to learn how to fix my own plumbing.  That would be cool.

Yes, last night, when I wasn’t mired in depression at how lousy and untalented a writer I was, my mind was spinning with alternative plans. 

In the middle of the night, I woke up feeling rather foolish.  Not quite sure what had happened.  So, I’d had a bad day, so what?  It didn’t mean that I would never be able to peck out another coherent sentence again.  And on the heels of that I became filled with remorse.  Poor Don.  The things he puts up with living with a woman in the full flush of menopause. 

In the morning, I had a lovely chat with my agent, Laura.  I also received a very nice email from my friend Diana, who passed on a generous compliment from a mutual editor friend.  Then I made a tasty cup of Arabian mint tea, and cloistered myself in my writing room.

AND…I had a GREAT day!  All the blocks that tormented me so, yesterday, has miraculously dissolved and I ended up writing 4 and a half pages!  Unknown wealth, for this snail paced writer.  And if tomorrow goes half as well, I shall be walking around with a rather pleased smile on my face.

(Still am feeling incredibly thrilled about Emily’s news, by the way.  That is the sort of happiness that lasts and lasts.)

Posted by Meg Tilly on Thursday, August 07, 2008 in Chewing the Fat