Big Girl Panties

Just a few more days, I think, and I’ll be ready to go back to my novel. I actually took a peek at it this morning but I know me and 5:30am BC - that’s ‘Before Coffee’ - is not the time to be starting my initial revisions, LOL. I feel so terribly guilty now for taking this break from my book; it’s a feeling somewhat akin to ignoring a crying child. All you want to do is put my arms around the poor wee bairn and comfort the miserable child and make him feel better. However, this child needed a time out for his own good; my book has been recalcitrant so I’m sure it’s a boy. Now the time has come to apply some tough love – I have to start cutting out words and phrases to which I’ve become particularly attached. I have to take away things from certain areas to streamline my writing and slowly start adding in to other parsed-out scenes.

I keep thinking this morning of excuses as to why I’m ignoring this baby to which I gave birth such a short time ago. Why am I not ready to begin the revision process even though I hear its plaintive cry so clearly every moment of every day? My book cries for my attention and I put my hands over my ears singing my own child in ignore mode la-la-la-la-la litany to my self: I have to get my Christmas shopping done (alright, alright…started!), I need to do laundry, I need to shampoo my carpet, I need to clean my house, I need to get a pedicure, I need to workout (yes, I’ve used that thought as an excuse not to got back to my book). I need, I need, I need.

None of those excuses are valid. If I’m to live my life honestly, then I have to tell the truth here. I’m afraid. I’m afraid of this talent I have. Yes, I’m finally admitting that I have a small bit of talent for writing. I’m afraid of the need to write which consumes me when I give it free reign and insidiously invades my psyche when I try to bury its lure deep in my soul. I’m sometimes afraid of the things that come out on paper. I’m afraid to be finished! As long as I’m physically working on something, then I’m pursuing a passion and that, by anyone’s account, is a wonderful thing. But…what happens when I finish the revisions? What then? Do I have it in me to do it again? I’m not talking about starting another book: just the opposite, in fact. I have so many ideas that I’m afraid I won’t be able to focus on just one. I already have six totally different books in the works. Six! Will I ever finish them? You see, this is the nexus of my fear: I’m afraid this whole writing thing may be a fluke.

Aaaaarrrrgggggg! That’s been my favorite ‘frustration’ phrase for years and it so perfectly describes what I’m feeling right now. I am so tired of doubting myself. No, that’s not quite accurate…it’s okay to question myself if it’s in a positive manner. I’m tired of playing negative mind games with myself (I’m always the loser for it, pun intended).

Just a few more days and I’ll be ready to go back to my novel? I think not. Whether I’m ready or not, today is the day. I am a writer. I have a book crying out for my attention.

Enough, enough, enough!!!!  It’s time to put on my big girl panties and get on with it.

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Everything is a mystery, ourselves, and all things both simple and humble. ~ Giorgio Morandi
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