JANUARY THEME: THE BIG BAD BLANK by Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich
I have to start somewhere.
A few months ago, I dug right into a new project, reveling in the research, the reading (oh, the reading!), the notes, the lists, the "prep" that I enjoy so very much.
I can make that lovely new idea! explore all the possibilities! stage last a long, long time. Like, long. But a writer has to write, and when it's time to sit down at look at that blank page (yes, an actual paper page in my case) and pull all of those ideas and thoughts and rhythms and scraps together into just one chapter, paragraph, sentence, or word...whew! There is always that brief flash of fear, even terror, of wait, what was I going to do again? Even when I think I have all the ideas and all the plans...the physical act of starting at the beginning, at THE BLANK, is no joke. Picture the trailer for an old, cheesy horror film, me screaming and howling as I'm being overtaken by the menacing, slow-but-sure BLANK.
And then picture the equally cheddar-laden triumphant happy ending, me wielding a giant pen and hopeful new notebook* (and then yeah, my laptop), beating back THE BLANK singlehandedly. Because I take a deep breath, pull up one tiny thought or word or note or memory. And I see that yes, there is something there. There is always something to work with. And accept that it will be messy, and there will be some awful sentences and pages and pages of drivel with an intermittent good paragraph or two, and that's OK. Because I'm writing.
I have to start somewhere.
*speaking of hopeful new notebooks, have you seen this? Hee hee.
A few months ago, I dug right into a new project, reveling in the research, the reading (oh, the reading!), the notes, the lists, the "prep" that I enjoy so very much.
I can make that lovely new idea! explore all the possibilities! stage last a long, long time. Like, long. But a writer has to write, and when it's time to sit down at look at that blank page (yes, an actual paper page in my case) and pull all of those ideas and thoughts and rhythms and scraps together into just one chapter, paragraph, sentence, or word...whew! There is always that brief flash of fear, even terror, of wait, what was I going to do again? Even when I think I have all the ideas and all the plans...the physical act of starting at the beginning, at THE BLANK, is no joke. Picture the trailer for an old, cheesy horror film, me screaming and howling as I'm being overtaken by the menacing, slow-but-sure BLANK.
And then picture the equally cheddar-laden triumphant happy ending, me wielding a giant pen and hopeful new notebook* (and then yeah, my laptop), beating back THE BLANK singlehandedly. Because I take a deep breath, pull up one tiny thought or word or note or memory. And I see that yes, there is something there. There is always something to work with. And accept that it will be messy, and there will be some awful sentences and pages and pages of drivel with an intermittent good paragraph or two, and that's OK. Because I'm writing.
I have to start somewhere.
*speaking of hopeful new notebooks, have you seen this? Hee hee.
Wonderful post, Olugbemisola! I also loved your link--that's going to keep me laughing all day--especially the girl's expression on her face as she clutches her expensive, leather-bound notebook! :)
ReplyDeleteI know! And I know I've had the exact same expression even though I only get the fake leather ones. :)
DeleteHehe indeed! OH, the ideas are easy, aren't they? But the follow-thru...gah! Make it happen, Gbemi... the world needs your words. xo
ReplyDeleteThanks, Irene!
DeleteSomehow, a notebook full of ideas and scribblings is more satisfying than all the words saved on the computer. Just sayin!
ReplyDeleteI agree! )
DeleteThe messier the better! (I think it means you're growing...)
ReplyDeleteAlways something to work with...yes!
ReplyDelete