Wah Wah Wah, Writing is Hard

Greetings from the whiney division of Fangs and Clause Central. I’ve been in a raging snit for a few days now. I’d like to blame the weather, except that it’s gorgeous out; my husband, except he’s doing nothing wrong; and the Republicans, well I might have a point there, but it’s really the writing that’s causing my malaise.

1. Books are long. They take a lot of work. I’ve got to move on from my days of fabricating a viable poem draft in three hours. I have months before I’m even ready to send this shit out to my friends for a second opinion, much less a second draft.

2. OK, maybe I did send something out to some friends anyway, including the man I married. They gave me some very reasonable advice. But I was not ready. They forgot to tell me what I was doing right. My husband reminded me that he doesn’t even like “Creative Nonfiction.” (Goddamned fiction writers.)

3. Maybe their feedback did lead to some soul-searching about the viability of my chapters. I’m a poet! How am I supposed to tell a story? Fuck.

4. And I probably should have stopped reading “A Long Goodbye.” Ms. Poet-Pants wrote a grief memoir with a few fantastic scenes, a complete lack of development of secondary characters, and a whole boatload of whining and lack of showing not telling,

5. which makes me worried I’m going to do the same damn thing. (Except for the characters, I’m good with characters.)

6. The radio announcer just told me to go out and enjoy the flowers, work in the garden, and oh let’s not forget mother’s day. Well, Ms. Radio Announcer, my flowers are riotous in a completely weed-infested garden; I have writing to do; and my mother died two years ago, thanks so much for reminding me.

7. Phew. How do you cope when your moods are at odd to the weather? Why am I never maniacally cheerful in February?

7a. For those of you (you know who you are) who call me when I write posts like this, don’t worry. I’ll be fine, I have to vent writing rage somewhere, and the man I’m married to is sick of hearing it.

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7 responses to “Wah Wah Wah, Writing is Hard

    • Seriously. I write and I write and I write. I edit, I reorder, I revise. I have, maybe, 40,000 words that I don’t hate. But they’re not done, and it’s only half way to my projected word count, and I can only imagine how many other complete draft revisions I have ahead of me.

  1. Indy,
    There is nothing like the pressure of a sunny day to throw mw out of whack. And spring is the worst. Renew, rebirth, especially when you’re working on the same old thing. Give me a storming, gray day every time.
    That being said, cut yourself some slack. Know that there are those of us that detest the pressurized expectations of spring. Know that what you are attempting is far harder than fiction. You have the same weight of structure/plot/pacing/dialogue excellence expected, with the additional weight of emotional upheaval. Take the fountain pen and stick the point right in the wound.
    This is all to say, keep it close, and keep going.

    • For some reason, sticking fountain pens in my wounds are way easier than plotting and pacing for me. Go figure.

      The weather reminds me that everyone is having more fun than I am, but for god’s sakes, I’m a writer and that’s gotta count for something.

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