There is this Monster who lives not under my bed, but resides and thrives in the subconscious recesses in my head. Fear is its name and my muse it would appear it has claimed.
Every morning I arise with the intent ‘Today I will write’,
but my thoughts are a jumble, neither words nor phrase can flow. At the end of
day, glaring back at me is a blank screen of white.
Even in slumber the Monster does not rest, lurking ever so
close it whispers in my ear. Why continue this writer’s folly? You’ll never
succeed. Give up already. Victory to me, you best concede.
Lies you tell. I
open my eyes and stare into darkness then suddenly see, I am the Monster, and
the Monster is me.
Identifying what was blocking my creativity, led me to seek
an immediate solution. Three months of reading books, blogs, attending monthly
GRW chapter meetings, entering contest, mediation, advice from friends/family,
venting on social media, and—nothing.
The Monster still taunts me.
Now before you take out your tiny violin, wait, I do have a
point. It’s one I refer back to often. In fact it’s become my daily mantra.
Writing is not a race, but a process. Throughout this dark period, the one
thing I haven’t done is stop writing.
Why? Because, duh, I am a writer. Weather its a scene, a paragraph, or
just one sentence a day, I keep writing.
Little by little, day-by-day, it is working. The characters,
the other voices in my head, are no longer silent. I hear them speaking up loud and clear,
drowning out the Monster.
With perseverance can the Monster, aka my fear, one day be vanquished? Ah, probably not. But like I said, I am a writer. I keep writing.
A.M. Wells
With perseverance can the Monster, aka my fear, one day be vanquished? Ah, probably not. But like I said, I am a writer. I keep writing.
A.M. Wells
