Battle Won

Christus in the storm on the lake; Rembrandt (...

Christus in the storm on the lake; Rembrandt (1633) 160 x 127cm, stolen from Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have been struggling with a segment in my draft. I found a stopping place, but, when I returned, I could not find my starting place. I was stuck. I would sit down to write and stare at my page waiting for the words to form in my mind. But the few words that sprouted were wrong. All wrong. I couldn’t figure it out. I knew what came next next, but I didn’t know how to get there. There had to be a path, but I could not see it. My creativity was trapped in the future. So what could I do now?

Every day I came back to it. I sat and stared, and stared some more. A sentence would come to me. I would write it down. Then I would scratch it out. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. I could not solve this puzzle. All I could do was stare at the blank grey of the huge boulder in my path.

It had been several days (cue: something’s about to happen) and still no useful words, no genius, no creativity for the present. I strolled into the kitchen for a drink (water… I wasn’t that discouraged) and turned to head back to the show I was watching. I had not been writing. The battle continued in my mind, but I was resting in the midst of it, letting it crop up here and there with a serious concern. But all that changed. In the moment it took me to walk from the kitchen to the living room, the thought formulated in my mind, transporting me to the land of writing.

When I think back to my surroundings at the time, all I can see is the white fog of a cloud. I guess that’s where my book resides: in the middle of a cloud, in my mind. 🙂

Two sentences. That’s all it took. Two sentences were my ‘bridge over troubled waters’. I immediately commenced the writing of the literary bridge in my notebook. Beautiful. I was elated. The little writer inside was jumping up and down, and thinking egotistical thoughts. The battle was suddenly amazing. It was beyond a silver-lined storm cloud. It was bright and shining, and incredibly worthwhile. (Waiting can be a gift in disguise.)

I love these experiences. It doesn’t matter how many times I have them, seemingly. It is an amazing thing to work, anguish, and despair over a novel. And it is amazing to revel in the beauty and wonder of the creation, and creating. The one increases the other. Don’t trade the ‘roller coaster’ for easy boredom. :)

Battle won. Now, on to the war. ;)


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