LIST

A LIST . . .

Revisions, blocks, dialogue.
Narrative. Punctuation.
Starting.
Ending.
Sex.
Murder.
Envy.
Chocolate.
Agents.
Selling a first book.
Selling a thirtieth book.
Health issues.
Time.
Distractions.
Motivation.
Reviews, good or bad.
Money versus art.
Tea versus coffee.
Pushing envelopes.
Stagnation.
Growth.
E-pub, print.
Category, single title.
Research.
Reality versus fantasy.
Babies, both real and "real."
Editors.
Publishers.
Muse management issues.

The above is an incomplete list of what being a writer entails. Some of the aspects, so to say. Not all at once, thank heavens. Not all in the same year or even the same decade. And not every writer has to grapple with every one of these concerns.

But most of us "enjoy" a love/hate relationship with one or more of them. We have written about them all in one form or another on this blog over the past several months. We've pulled our hair out. We've searched for the easy-fix golden-egg answer that surely everyone knows but isn't telling.

Ever notice how some mornings you take a shower, fix yourself up, look in the mirror and think, "Not bad if I do say so myself."
And other mornings, you take a shower, fix yourself up, look in the mirror and say, "I am too ugly to leave this house. Ack!"

Truth is, you look the same on the outside. It's on the inside that you changed and it can happen overnight or in an instant. I think that's what being a writer is like, too. Sometimes you work and feel invincible. Sometimes you struggle and feel like the biggest phony in the world. Sometimes you know where you're going and at others, you can't even recall where you've been.

Having just finished my thirty-something book, I went down to the bank to switch accounts. The bank manager, talking out loud as she filled in the forms, said, "Occupation, writer. Retired, no." I opened my mouth to correct her. I haven't written since late May. Am I still a writer when every idea I have seems to scatter like a flock of wild finches if I dare step too close?

So, I look at that list up there and identify at some level with every single one of those things. And having just read Jen's plea from cyber space--the one she wrote Saturday morning, the one asking the very same question I am asking and she at one end of her career and me at the other--it occurs to me that we are both writers, we are both struggling, albeit with different issues, and that all of us struggle in our own ways.

Perhaps it is the struggle that counts. The trip and not the destination.

Saturday night, as I was watched The African Queen with Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn, something else occurred to me. It was near the end of the movie. For those of you who haven't seen it, a quick recap: Katherine Hepburn is a dead preacher's spinster sister who falls for the fun loving drinking captain of a small supply boat named African Queen. She convinces Bogart to head the boat to Lake Victoria to find the Nazi ships there and sink them. He really doesn't want to do this--it's hard work--but she perseveres. Along the way, they fall in love with one another. Now it's near the end and they've gone as far as they can. He's sick, the boat is mired in mud, the river has quit. She prays for understanding of their love when they soon stand at the pearly gates. She makes peace with death, she can't fight anymore.

The camera pans out as she collapses. They are within a few yards of the lake. So close and yet so far! The skies break open and it begins to rain--it rains so hard the river swells. They awake to find themselves afloat, on the lake. They made it. So, after despair, joy. Right there beyond the camera lens. Right there beyond the tall grass they couldn't see over.

And today, driving with my husband, I started to talk about my book and it started to rain, the river swelled, and my little writing boat nudged itself out onto the lake. Not ready to shoot down any Nazi ships yet, but hey, I'm floating.

So, you see, you never know. I suspect the only way to make sure nothing happens is to do nothing. What would you add to the list? And if you could, what would you take away?