My internet and phone service have been out of commission for ten days. I have learned that I write far more when I do not have the distraction of website, Pinterest, and FaceBook a few keystrokes away. No surprise that, but I am alarmed at how lonely and disconnected I was starting to feel.
I am considering posting more of my writings. I am finding it to be an extraordinarily difficult thing to do. Scenes, isolated from the whole, diminish. Suddenly the prose stumbles. I lose confidence. I think, “No one will find this interesting.”
Do all writers go through this push-pull? This seesaw that says, “This is really good,” then, “No, this is trite bullshit.” I suppose, if they are lucky, they call upon trusted voices for their opinions and support. They call on lovers and friends and mentors for help getting through the doubting times.
I imagine I am writing something of such aching truthfulness that people are captivated. Then I think, “It is a fantasy. How can it possibly feel real and honest? Isn’t it enough that people simply like it? You strive for too much.”
The afternoon evaporates away, and I have made little progress on the novel today. I must turn to it now. Put these musings aside and dive back into the world that absorbs my days and nights. I talk to the characters, in the darkness. I ask them about their lives, their loves. They tease and jest. They laugh and smile. I walk back into their world and, for a time, forget everything else.
Today’s music selection is Don’t Be So Hard on Yourself
from Salty Heaven by Luka Bloom. Released: 1999. Track 3.