So, it’s late on Sunday evening–it’s actually Monday for you folks back East–and I’m doing some reflecting.
As some of you may know, my muse has gone…missing.
Huh. Maybe I’m not supposed to mention that I’ve struggled with a manuscript, or couldn’t find inspiration. Maybe I’m supposed to make it look like it’s easy all the time, like the words just flow from my fingertips, inspired by the daughters of Zeus.
Mmhm. And monkeys will fly out of my butt.
I’m not sure anything is gained by authors lying to one another, or to the world. No, writing is not like brain surgery, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. Trust me, I did medical transcription in college (and I read medical reports all the time), and while I would totally trust them to cut open my head, some of them can’t write for shit. When you read those reports, it’s very stream of consciousness–few commas (I always added them, because I happen to know there is a world of difference between eats shoots and leaves and eats, shoots and leaves), and often no periods. There are times when I think that a well-placed period or comma might actually make a world of difference.
So while I would never presume that a brain surgeon’s job is easy, not everyone can do mine, either.
I won’t lie to you–sometimes the words come easy. Other times, the words are hard. The story needs to be forced out, like birthing a baby (granted, how would I know? I had C-sections). It doesn’t matter how the story came into the world.
Just like with having kids, what matters is what you do with it once it’s out.