Bootstrap Time

I'm not going to lie. I moped for a few days. I annoyed Fernando with whining and complaining. I was a big stick in the mud, a complete drag. When you're feeling unskilled and futile, it's difficult to shake it off. Like a bad cold, it dogs you, it gets in your lungs. You end up breathing it, marinating in how useless you are.

So the first thing I did was just take a step away from the whole thing. I didn't think about my book or my characters or my chances in publishing once on Saturday. I had a nice day with Fernando instead. Went to get the car fixed (and though that ended up being an ordeal, I refused to let it ruin the day), saw a movie. Hung out at the bookstore, brought some Chinese food home. It was a nice day, and I succeeded in not thinking about my woes once.

Sunday ... I started to miss writing. I missed my story and my characters. And that's what brought me back. In the end, I'm doing this because I love it, because it's the only thing I want to do. I'm doing this because I love to experience what I read, and I'm hoping that someday something I write will affect someone in the same way. I'm doing this because telling a good story is the most fulfilling thing I've ever known, because learning more about telling good stories is an endless pursuit that doesn't fill me with futility.

Yes, there is always something I'll be able to learn about writing, and that's wonderful. It means I'll never become stagnant, it means that no matter how much I achieve, there will always be room to grow. I can't think of anything more encouraging than that.

I realized that feeling sad and discouraged is a kind of tool itself! The more I feel and the more I understand about myself, the better I'll be able to put it all into words. I felt lower than mud a few days ago, and once I stopped to think about it, I found myself describing the sensations, the thoughts. The way I felt like a stone slowly ground into sand. And then I stepped into one of my character's shoes and wrote it from her perspective. A few chapters down the line, I'll do the same for the rest.

Once I tell myself that any sadness or discouragement I feel is an asset, I'm not held down by it anymore. I learn how to write it, and then I'm free again. I'm not feeling discouraged and useless anymore; instead, I'm chomping at the bit to keep writing, always writing.

So though I'm laid up right now with a pretty bad cold, I can't stop. I just finished chapter 5, and off I go, ready to shape chapter 6. What a wonderful thing.