Switching Gears

"I prefer to think that it's like opening a tap in the brain and letting out the pressure which would otherwise drive me crazy in some way."

I feel very much the same way. I was just telling my wife the other day that it's like opening a vein and letting the story out. And just like giving blood, I know I can only give a little at a time. When my thousand words are up, I feel like I'm short on blood... not quite exhausted, but that the well is close to dry and I'd better not push it.

Which makes me think about how much trouble I have switching gears. I've been in a little quandary lately... lots of writing assignments coming in, which is great cuz we need the money. So I say yes a lot. Just said yes to another newspaper story five minutes ago. That's all fine and good, but I feel like when I hit those deadlines (and yes, I blow them the fuck off until the last possible minute) I have to make a choice... I have to tap the vein for a bullshit nonfiction assignment and get it done, or I can tap the vein to work on my novel, which is what I really want to be doing. I've said no to a few assignments recently, in the interest of allowing myself time to crank on the novel, but lately we need the money.

I wish I could just stop complaining and find the strength to write six hours a day. I have those six hours when the kids are at school, and I'm usually working in some way during most of them, but writing... the actual drafting, pulling the words outta the air and my ass, that's when the needle goes in and the valve opens full-throttle.

I usually dedicate first-thing-in-the-morning time to real writing, drafting, cutting open the vein. Then I'll do some editing and revision later in the day, and marketing and phone calls and other associated bullshit in the afternoon when it's okay that most of my creative juices have dried up and I'm just doing grunt work, crossing things off the bullshit to do list.

So do real writers really write for six, eight, ten hours a day? Well if those real writers do that, fuck 'em. They got a lot more blood than I do, I guess.

But then there's that amazing energy we've both talked about... that electric jolt that jumpstarts your day after you've knocked out your thousand words... I get that when I've done my thousand on the novel, and I have to admit I even get it when I finish a bullshit newspaper story or educational publisher assignment... It's quite a thrill when I can hit "Send" and know that the fucker is done, off to where it's supposed to go, on time, and about to come back in the form of a paycheck... That's good shit, just not as good as finishing a good chunk in the novel.

I'm not feeling like a failure with any of this... it's just yet another example of recognizing and acknowledging that this is all part of the writing process... my writing process... and accepting it and working with it, sliding the canoe in the water and paddling along to get from point A to point B rather than standing in the middle with a raised fist, the water cutting a V as it rushes past my body... desperately trying to tweak my process to work with in the constraints of my fucked-up needy alcoholic mind... I know how it works... I've fought this writing thinking game time and time again... I know it's better to accept the bullshit, the pain, the struggle, as part of the process.. my writing process... cuz when I paddle that canoe I get shit done.