Writing Before It Melts Away

Did I mention that it snowed here last week? Like for realz snowed? I think it was about five inches or more. It was fun. My hubby took a half day at work so he could play with the kids in said snow. Wet, white cold fluffies don't make it around here often. But when they do we take full advantage of the situation. We made a snowman. And he was HUGE. However, by the time 5 o'clock rolled around it was warming up and raining. Slowly the Snowman began to tilt to the side just a bit, the 'neck' holding his heavy head in place breaking. The torso followed suit, and pretty soon there was nothing but the base. And that too didn't last very long. I'm so glad we took the time to take kids out in the snow before it was some sad distant memory of 'remember when?'

How is this like writing? Sometimes we get these ideas that make us jump up and down, giddy with excitement because of just how awesome they are. We then sit down and start jotting down plot, scenes, character information. It's that wave of freshness that leaves us energized. Then, after some time, that jazzed feeling starts to fizzle. Just a bit at first, sort of like that snowman's neck starting to slip to the side. We begin to doubt the story, ourselves, EVERYTHING. Why did I want to write this? We question. I am so NOT good enough to give life to this story, we say to ourselves. My life is in ruins! we yell to the universe. (The last one's a bit drastic, but I think we've all been there). And pretty soon there's nothing left in the writing but a big, slushy, wet mess of nonsense.

How do we overcome this crippling situation? We get over it. Yeah, I know. But HOW to get over it, is the real question. And there's no easy answer. I've started and stopped I don't even know how many stories. Then came this point. I'm not sure when it hit, but when it did it made me free. I WANTED to finish that story that'd lost the spark. Why? Because I needed to prove to myself that I could finish something. Anything, really. Even though that story won't be seeing the light of day any time soon, it gave me a sense of accomplishment. I know that it's almost necessary to give up on a project from time to time in this writing gig, but don't do it because of doubt. Do it because you gave it everything and there's nothing left in you to give. Be proud of what you put in, even if nothing comes of it. And then, when the time comes, use it for scrap parts. (I've been known to do that from time to time.) But make sure at the end of the darkened tunnel of lost inspiration that you're satisfied with what you did. Even if it's half done, be happy that you gave it your all.