Writers know the only way to write is to sit your biscuit in the chair and put words to paper.
Simple enough, right?
Eh, not so much.
Writing requires more than a clear sheet and a sharpened pencil (or ten fingers and a keyboard).
It also demands time. Lots and lots of time-the one thing many of us are lacking. But if you want to create something worthwhile, expect to pay the clock.
Effort. You might be the Picasso of the literary world but no matter how chock full of talent you are, nothing takes the place of passion or drive. It’s a long way to the end and gumption should be along for the ride.
Imagination. Big ingredient. Stories have been told and retold and it takes a steep flight of fancy to create something new.
Isolation. Nothing crashes your train of thought like another’s caboose on your rail.Every distraction is your enemy! Bar the husband/wife, children, phones, internet, tv, radio, your favorite author’s newest release and gum (that popping noise!). I think you catch my drift.
Patience is the most tedious must have. Of all the necessities, this I find the most difficult.
So why write? None of the above listed qualifies as my good time. Writing often doesn’t pay well. It’s harder than a chastity belt to break into and people look at you like a narcissistic dung beetle when you claim to be a writer (not sure why that is).
In the face of countless rejections, cold indifference from editors/agents and a healthy stomping of my hopes and dreams, why bother?
I write because at this keyboard, I become.
I am a princess, an astronaut, a bounty hunter. I am an actress, an engineer, a race car driver. I am a designer, a brain surgeon, a sky diver. I am The President, a celebrity, a bio-chemist. I am a fashion photographer, a veterinarian, an alchemist. I am a professor, an angel, a gambler. I am a thief, a police officer, a pharmacist. I am a demon, a courtesan, a teacher.
I am the freedom to be my character-the good, the bad, the ugly.
It’s the best dress up a girl could ask for.