I’m Not a Chicken

I am posting today just to prove I’m not intimidated by Isabella’s last post.  Alright, maybe a little.  Alright, a lot.  I could never lie to you, Reader.  That post completely intimidated me.  My little “slices of life” are never THAT interesting.  Seriously, I’m switching physical therapists.

I’ve been considering letting the boy, we call him The Bandit, start naming my characters.  He has a real penchant for it.  He renamed all the horses at the County Fair.  If you ask me there are entirely too many horses named Scout and not enough Flashes and Floyds. 

The other reason that I haven’t been as forthcoming with posts is a really good one.  I have been writing at a record pace for the past week.  The most was eleven pages in one day and the least was four and a half.  My pirate story is coming along like gang busters, and I fully expect it to be complete by the end of the weekend.  It’s practically written itself which is a nice change from the normal routine of agonizing over one plot point or another.  So those of you who have been poking at me for more posts, you’re the same ones wrangling me for more pages.  For God’s sake, I’m typing as fast as I can.  You could always come over and babysit.  Yeah, you’re quiet now aren’t you.  Talk about chicken.

I spoke with a really great writer I know who was struggling with her “author” identity.  We talked through her struggle and ultimately decided that her work is what it is, but that it is not ONLY that.  There are a myriad of reasons why success is elusive.  But the reasons it shouldn’t be are internal prejudices, fear of success, and struggling to churn out what others expect of you.  Tolstoy said it eloquently in A Confession: “Force is force, matter is matter, will is will, the infinite is the infinite, nothing is nothing.”  Basically, it is what it is but there is always more.

I gotta get back to work.  Pirate ships are coming into port and maidens are teetering on the brink.  Someone has to be there to push her over.