Writing is the weirdest thing for me. I never seem like I have any control over it. I do not get to decide what I write. My characters only show up when they want to and they tell their stories on their own time. I am just the vessel that the muses use. I don’t always know when a story is ready to be told ahead of time.
Most writers will understand what I am talking about. Lately it has been such a source of headaches and stress.
One night I found myself trying to write something the entire day. I wrote many things that I quickly crushed in my hand and tossed them into the trash can. 1…2…3…balls of paper and I was no closer to a story than I was three hours before.
I took a nap. I cleaned the house. I did a load of laundry. I did my hair. I painted my nails.
I tried very hard to come up with a short story for my erotic romance blog. I just couldn’t think of something new and something fresh. I felt like I was in a writing rut.
Weeks went by and my trash can in my bedroom just continued to pile up with wadded pieces of paper discarded sometimes after I had written two or three pages worth
One night I could not sleep. I was feeling down and frustrated. You know how it feels as a writer when you want to write or cannot write and it just eats at you. It pesters you and it is all you can think about.
Suddenly out of nowhere an idea popped in my head. It seemed like a good idea, but so did the other twenty I tried to write. I began by writing down the title. Then I thought of an opening line. I thought about the characters and where I wanted to be and what type of things they would say. Then like magic…they began to tell me their story. I could see a nightclub with dancing and everyone drinking and having a god time. It was as if I was there.
Before I knew it at 2 am I had a pretty good first draft of a story. The next day I had another story.
This writing lifestyle is crazy. I sometimes have no control.