How I Write

June 7th, 2005
03:01 pm:
How I Write
Once upon a time, I was a writer who wrote at the drop of a hat. I could write anywhere, with any level of noise. I could write about whatever came into my little head. I could write in the day or the wee hours of night. I dreamed of writing for a living. I fantasized seeing my book on the shelves of bookstores. I often wrote stories about aliens and monsters, blood and gore. Then I lurched into writing about random occurrences. I also wrote poetry if an idea didn’t quite merit the length of a story. I wrote because it felt good and it was fun. I didn’t have any prerequisites except a college ruled, spiral bound notebook and a pen that wrote smoothly. Then, one day I looked up and realized my writing had come to a standstill.Now, a divorce, 2nd marriage, 2 children and multiple forays into the workforce later, I am wondering how to get the magic back. I used to write fiercely, fearlessly. Now, I write nervously and only if I won’t be disturbed, interrupted.These days I need a prompt, a purpose, a kick start. A little something to outsmart the negative mantra that revs instantly and powerfully, like that Harley screaming up Loch Raven Boulevard. I frequently tease myself with the notion, “If I just get this laundry, organizing, event planning, child rearing, husband tending, gardening done first, I’ll make writing a habit again”. So, I putter along in fits and starts. Make myself attend at least one casual writing workshop a week. I read the work of other real people who write regularly and I remind myself of my vow not to be rocking in my chair of old age, nursing regrets about how I never got around to writing.