I Just Want to Be Bad
July 11, 2007
No worries, Mom. I’m talking about writing.
I’ve been in editing mode for so long that creating mode is really freaking me out. If you think writing comes naturally to writers, think again. It’s hard, hard work, and most often our rough drafts are nasty rough.
I’m still in the early stages of the first draft of my book Shelf Life. I love the story. It’s far more complex than the last book I wrote. I’ve even written a nine-page outline of the thing, but where I am right now in the story is a black hole. I don’t know how we’ll get from here to where the action becomes clear again, and each time I sit down to write, I remember that the laundry needs to be folded or that I haven’t checked my e-mail in about 3 minutes or that my kids probably need their glasses refilled.
Frankly, I’m scared to type. I know it’s going to be — gulp — horribly bad.
But lately the desire to write has been building, no matter how awful my rough draft might be. I just want to write bad if that’s what it takes to get it on paper. And sadly, that’s what it will mean — rough drafts that will never see the light of day. If they do, I’ll be absolutely mortified.
But that draft is the building block to the finished product. I know that once I get those scenes on paper, once I print them out and sit down with my red pen and bleed all over the thing, I’ll have a good idea of what I need to add, what I need to delete, and what kind of work I’m looking at in my rewrite.
I can’t wait to get to that rewrite.
I’ll never get there if I don’t glue myself to my laptop and write a pathetic first draft.
So, deep breath, it’s time to do it. Time to step away from the e-mail, set my timer for the dryer, and let the kids refill their own glasses.
I’ve got to write.