Another week of toil and writing

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Well, less toil. I did stop working after all. But I am really more self-employed than unemployed, it’s just that none of my jobs pay much and some don’t pay at all. The child development one (AKA motherhood) certainly doesn’t pay in any sort of currency accepted in stores, Shaping Clouds (soon to be renamed) is brand new, so not much going on there, and Younique (make up) has been a bit abandoned since I stopped working so I am going to give that a new push.

But to the main thing, the writing. Last week ended up being not so bad. I didn’t write anything on Saturday, Sunday or Monday, I was very tired and I simply preferred to go to bed early. I recovered nicely though and I wrote, over the week (Saturday to Friday), over 5300 words, when target is  4200. Proud of myself.

I am encountering some issues regarding story line though. I have it plotted well, but I feel, when writing, that the scenes are taking long and other than the character itself, there isn’t all that much going on to keep the reader intrigued. I am taking notes as I go and this is a very rough first draft, so I am aware editing will be a lot of work (AKA a bitch).

As I sat with my husband for dinner last night he asked me what was the plan for the evening and I told him first I was going to write my blog post for today and then my usual 600 words. He asked me how could I be bothered writing so much. In a very Galician way* I answered with: how can you be bothered working so much on your VW Beetle (petrol heads!)? He said it was because he enjoyed it and then asked me if I enjoyed writing. I did realize how that question didn’t have a straight forward answer.

Do I enjoy writing? Do writers enjoy writing? Really?

I know, and I believe I’ve mentioned this before, that there is a point in my daily writing sessions, somewhere past the 500 words, where it stops being a dental exercise and the prose flows (the prose might be rubbish though, but it flows) and I enjoy it because I am “in the zone” (note, cliche of the day!). The problem of the zone is dual:

  1. it usually makes you write until inhuman hours of the morning, or
  2. you hit it when you really have to go to bed because your children don’t understand that mummy has a Dream (yes, like that, with capital D) and they should stay in their beds quietly until 9 or 10am instead of the customary 7 o’clock in the morning.

And if we really loved it, wouldn’t writers just write? Because the best known enemy of the writer is procrastination, it’s a fact. [I just procrastinated a bit by going searching for an image to depict procrastination. Worst of all, I didn’t find one.]

Personally I like telling the story. I tell the story to myself but I find if I don’t write it I can’t keep telling it in my head which means I’ll never really know what happens. Well, I know what happens, but I wouldn’t have the details, the whys and hows, what makes stories interesting.

I suppose it’s because I was first a reader of stories and the writing came later. I started writing some (pretty lame) poetry when I was in school, not because I was particularly interested in the genre, but because it was fun making words rhyme and there was a bit of a competition between the girls in class. I forgot about that pretty soon. It wasn’t really until I read Lord of the Rings that I thought I could write my own story. I was intrigued by Eowyn and her courage and bravery and I really wanted a strong, female warrior as the hero of the novel and I thought I should write that. She is still in my head and her name has changed but it’s a story I am still working on and it’s a part of myself now.

So I suppose the question of whether we enjoy writing is complex, but one thing is for sure, writers love stories because it’s the stories that make us what we are.

*We say in Spain that people from Galicia tend to answer your questions with other questions. Not sure if it’s true. I had a friend from Galicia and I don’t remember her doing that more than other people.

 

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