The first one!

I’m supposed to be the first to blog. I feel as though I should say something profound. However, I’m not a profound sort of girl, so I’ll just write.

It feels good to write, to make progress on writing. I’ve been in a bit of slump with no new words since Christmas. Tonight, I didn’t get any new words, but I worked on the book and made a few discoveries.

I’ve been too distracted at home – the dogs, the Internet, the stack of books on the bedside table. Tonight, I decided to change scenery. I took a jaunt to Panera with my computer and traveling writer’s space. Classical music, hot French onion soup, and a great salad bribed the muses into reveling a bit. While I ate, I caught up on some emails for my Girls in the Basement class with Barbara Samuel. I apparently missed a great deal of email discussion about the writing life while I was at the bill-paying job. The idea/fear/anticipation that publishing your stories would change everything came up. The worry and stress and deadlines seemed to be a big deal. Fear seemed to be a big deal. I guess it’s different for everyone, but deadlines and pressure to do well or better or more seem to be part of life. I’ve never shied away from that. I actually kind of get an adrenaline rush out of it. My best work has always been the last minute, under-the-gun, pulse-thumping work to meet an impending deadline. Maybe that pressure sparks something in my creative self. Maybe the internal critic just shuts up then, knowing that no one has time for her in the crunch. Whatever it is, I’m looking forward to having deadlines for something about which I’m passionate. I love change. I love the challenge. I want the pressure to get another book out, to get it out sooner, to feed the readers hungry for more of my words. Bring it on.

Perhaps, it was that inspiration that got me moving. Maybe it was the fact that I made a conscious decision to move my fingers across the keys and just put something, anything on that computer plot board. And I did. I flowed. It all came spilling out in an understanding of my story and plotting that I’ve never had before. Is it perfect? No. Not even close. I wrote things that I know – knew when I wrote them – I’ll have to go back and change, but that’s okay. It’s the getting it down, the putting it out there that fed the muse tonight.

I closed the café. I left when they started to lock the door. I’d have written until midnight. However, a wise teacher once said to quit when you were at an exciting point so that you were anxious to get back to it. I might be anxious enough to get back to it tonight, or at least eat lunch at my desk tomorrow. I’m excited again. The muses are whirling.

Bring it on.