This is one of those times that “butt in chair” is happening a lot. What I mean is that with the craziness of the holidays now in full swing, it’s all too easy for me to become distracted from my writing and give it short shrift. Writing can slide until tomorrow so I can shop today, and tomorrow it has to slide again due to the sniffles, and then there’s that party this evening, so…. Soon, I’ll have gotten completely out of the habit of writing.
If that happens, the muse pouts, withholding ideas, or only sending terrible ones my way. My brain forgets how to string words together into sentences, let alone stories, so I’m left blankly staring at the screen waiting for words to appear. And when they finally do appear, they are lifeless, with no magic to them.
It takes precious time to get back into the swing of writing. And during that time, the critic sweeps in the door, snickering at the pitiful words on the screen, announcing that she was right all along, I’m no writer, who do I think I’m fooling…etc, etc. Folding up shop, quitting writing for good, seems all too viable then.
So I’m not going there now. I’m keeping my butt in my chair, putting in the time and making the words respect me because my schedule isn’t changing that much. I may shift my hours here or there, but the time in the chair is the time in the chair. The words will flow if only I give them the chance. If I keep the critic at bay with repetition, if I submerge my doubts and just write…surprise! Then I am writing. Just like magic.