I can see how it is that a writer’s life can be a lonely one.
I’m often sitting in front of the computer screen, or in a large lounge chair with my trusty tablet computer, writing the words, or staring into space!
Sometimes the words don’t make any sense, sometimes the thoughts leading to those words don’t make any sense. Sometimes the most sensible person in the room is the cat.
I’m sure his thoughts are not vague or scrambled, nor is he wrestling with the plots of several stories on the go, getting locations right, getting characters to think and do their thing with a fair degree of continuity.
The cat’s world is one of which chair to lie on, where is that elusive mouse, be it real or otherwise, and is this fool going to feed me soon, and please, please, don’t let it be the lasagna. I am not that cat!
Unlike other professions, there is no 9 to 5, no overtime, no point where you can switch off and move into leisure time. Not while you are writing that next bestseller. It’s a steady, sometimes frustrating, slog where you can’t just walk away, have a great time, and come back and pick up where you left off.
Stories have to be written from beginning to end, not a bit here and a bit there.
So much so it’s a bit like running a marathon. You are in a zone, the first few miles are the hardest, the middle is just getting into a rhythm and getting your breathing under control, and then you hope you get to the end because it can seem that you’ve been going forever and the end is never in sight.
But, when you reach the end, oh, isn’t the feeling one of pure joy and relief.
And, yes, perhaps you’ve just created another bestseller!
I’m racing to the end for me!
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I have yet to reach the middle, and the rest stretches out in front of me, like an impossible dream. I write because I must, but there are times…
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