Writing goes through its own seasons, much like life in general does. Right now I’m in a season of change. What was comfortable yesterday has become stifling. And what was safe and a source of pride has somehow morphed into a daunting obstacle.
In the immortal words of Bruce Springsteen, I want to “change my clothes, my hair, my face” – and a few things besides. Actually it’s not about appearance at all. It’s about what’s going on under the hood. I’ve been slacking on my diet, I’ve been slacking on exercise, and with the resultant lack of energy, I’ve been slacking on my writing. I spent the first couple of months of 2022 working on my platform, such as it is, and on getting those queries out (and crickets back, but that’s a different story). What I haven’t been doing is writing consistently and with purpose. I catch myself tinkering with already over-tinkered scenes, instead of tackling the hard stuff.
I’m currently taking the late David Farland’s 318R class, but have I been working on applying the things I’m learning? Uh. Nope. There’s a lot of overwhelm going on, and the usual litany of doubt: Will I ever find a publisher for my novels? Or will I have to go the self-publishing route? The more I educate myself about the publishing world, the more the thought of self-publishing starts to appeal. For reasons I won’t go into, that route is currently closed to me, but a few years from now it will open up. So until then I will try to find a traditional publisher, and if that doesn’t work out, well, I’ll take the plunge. It’s a daunting thought, seeing that I’m not the most avid marketer and social media hound, but, hey, nobody said that I’d have to do it all myself.
So, yeah, there are options. And yet. And yet I find myself in this deer-in-headlights mode that I don’t like and that I’m struggling to overcome. If the past is any indication, I will move on, eventually. But for now I feel stressed out and caught in a loop of discontent. Well, winters of discontent have been around for centuries, I hear. And this one, too, will pass. I just wish it would hurry up already. Unfortunately, as these seasons go, like their natural counterparts they can’t be rushed. They need to be taken with patience and a certain acceptance, as well as the realization that some things indeed do take time and need to run their course.
In my martial arts practice I’ve learned that plateaus or even setbacks often precede progress. Writing is another practice, so there’s no reason to think that I won’t level up there as well. As frustrating as being stuck feels, the certainty that eventually things will change carries a seed of hope. All I need to do is to show up and to never stop practicing.