hemingway week

It hasn’t been a very Hemingway week. I know we can’t always be brilliant, and I’m no Hemingway, but this is Day 4 of what I hope is a bad case of writer’s block because if writer’s block is worse than this, I just might hurt something.

However, I’m afraid I don’t have writer’s block since I’m writing this. And it’s pretty good.

Still, it’s infuriating, wanting to say something, anything…and not being able to. At least, not being able to the way you want to. And I’m doing all the right things, the things my writing profs told me to do. I’m reading a lot, writing every day, even doing some of the goofy exercises in my old composition textbooks.

And I’m still stuck.

Some people might say I’m trying too hard. But, for crying out loud, this stuff doesn’t just jump onto the page. Who was it that said writing is 10% inspiration, 90% perspiration. Maybe I’m misquoting, but I’m sweating all over the place and can’t get one meaningful, beautiful drop on the page.

Maybe it’s my work environment. In the past few weeks, I’ve discovered that I can’t work from home. My attention would be diverted by cleaning, laundry, decorating or cooking all day long. But I’ve found the library helpful with its Internet connection for research and all its quiet nooks. Borders and Barnes are also good for people-watching and character-development skills. So I’ve got some good spots to produce. But this week, nothing doing.

Maybe it’s the time of day. I’m trying to write in the afternoon, from about noon to five. Maybe I should try a morning thing. Or evening. Or maybe I should break it up a bit…you know, a little bit of writing in the morning, a little bit in the afternoon, some reading in the evening. I was trying to keep my workday like everyone else’s though – 9 to 5. That’s never worked for us artsy types though.

Maybe I need to examine my reasons for writing. Lately, all I’ve been thinking about is getting published. There’s nothing wrong with that goal. When you have something hopeful, inspiring and powerful to say, you want to empower, inspire and give hope to others. But I may have taken it a little too far, writing only because I want to publish, not because I have something truly moving to offer.

Or maybe, just maybe, I’m scared. Afraid that I don’t have anything to say. Insecure about my ability to write something that could impact lives. I couldn’t do that, I hear myself say. I haven’t lived enough, had enough life experiences. I don’t know enough about X, Y or Z. Maybe I just don’t have it in me.

But that’s just a lie. A lie I have to speak truth to every day. Krista, you have a life full of experiences, a world inviting you to explore, and millions of stories to tell.