Through November I wrote like a fury to get the poetry book done in time to hand to my writer’s group so that I had some readers before I reworked and sent the manuscript into the contest for January.
In two/three weeks I banged out almost sixty poems. Then I hit a snag with Gacy and asked could I please have another week to write thirty more–simple right? After I’d already done as much the weeks before you’d think that one more section wouldn’t be rocket science. You’d think. But you’d be wrong.
It took me almost three weeks to finish this section. I say it’s because it was more difficult for me to get “in touch” with Gacy, but it’s probably because I’d begged for time, gotten it, and then thought “I need a little bit of a break, I’ll get back to that in just a little bit. And a little bit more.”
When the pressure was off, the pen/typing slowed down. I think this is a common problem for writers, and the real reason the first novel (or couple, as the case may be) takes forever is because we have all the time in the world. There’s no one behind us saying “Do this now or your fired!” It’s only our own hopes and dreams that keep us pushing those words along the page.
Sorta sad that hopes and dreams don’t push us quite as hard as that fire-breathing boss.