Just overheard as I was letting the dogs out, getting ready for an appointment, stepping away from my email for a bit:
Neal Conan was talking about “thinking” he was a writer when he was in college, but watching his roommate and having this revelation:
“You’ve got to put your butt in the chair every single day: writers write!”
Yes, Neal. Which explains why I’m feeling frustrated even though I did a couple of pages today. Seems like lately, I’ve been distracted and doing everything BUT writing. (Even though I’m a third of a way into a 90,000 word novel, I still feel that sense of unease. It just isn’t happening fast enough!)
I think of all the folks who’ve said to me, “Someday I want to write a book.”
I hope they do. I mean, if that’s what they want, and if there’s a story inside, I hope they put it on paper. But…I know that this discipline, this alone-ness, this duet of me and the empty screen is my dance to do every day. I fight and I struggle and somedays, the words are missing in action.
But…I’m a writer. My butt’s in the chair. My hands are on the keys. When the battery on the keyboard goes dead (which it did last week) or the doorbell rings or the dog nudges me to go outside, I am torn away from this world I want so badly to create.
Writers write.
How’s it going for YOU?
