There are Days

By Russel D McLean

There are days you want to throw in the towel.

You know writing isn't digging ditches. But its tough in a different way. If you take it seriously, you're worried the whole time about the reception your writing's going to get, if your agent/editor/reader is being honest with you, if you are finally going to be found out for the talentless fake you are.

There are days you think,

The critics are right.

I've lost it.

I can't go on.

Seriously. Because you take your craft seriously. Because you sweat over each and every word and you know - you just know - when something's wrong, when something isn't working. And you worry that you can't set it right.

There are days.

And you come close. If it wasn't for your compulsive streak you might even do it, throw in that towel, go and start digging those ditches because at least you see results from your sweat and worry and those results are physical, tangible, clearly seen by all.

There are days.

There are days when someone says something. And that sweat and worry you've had lift, even if for a moment. You think, this person means what they say. This person gets it.

There are days when you're flying high on the rhythm and the writer and reader parts of your brain are singing together in harmony and you think, this is why I do it. This feeling here.

There are days when complete strangers send you a letter, unasked for, to say that you touched them in some way with those words you sweated over. You gave them a moment of joy or even one of thought and reflection (and boy, are those moments the ones that make you want to scream with joy even if you can't quite believe it, think the letter writer must have you confused with someone else).

There are days when you see tangible proof that people are out there and people are reading your work. Not because they have an obligation to do so but because they want to.

There are days.

And those days make the darker ones seem somehow worthwhile. There are days that make you forget the reasons you thought about throwing in the towel.

And on those days.

You smile.

Tension

by Dave White

I know this is a crime fiction blog, but I'm not talking about tension in a story. I'm talking about literal stress headache tension.

You see, I know it's awful to admit this, but as much as I try to, I don't write every day. Sure, when I'm in the middle of a novel, I'm getting my 1,000 words in and when I'm revising I'm working as hard as I can, but when I'm between pieces I sometimes stop. It's like going to the gym, you decide you can skip one day and the next thing you know you've missed two weeks.

The funny thing is I know this is bad for me.

Writing is a good thing for me. I've written how it is my therapy. It gets me thinking about a lot of things both in terms of the story and whatever I'm dealing with in real life at the same time. And it helps me deal with those things.

So, when I go through one of those stretches when I'm not writing, I start feeling the tension build. My muscles tighten and a dull pain runs up the back of my neck and I get frustrated a lot easier. It's like my brain needs to work something out, but is not being given the tools to work it out. I can't relax.

And the easy solution is to write, isn't it?

You're correct. I need to sit down and start tapping at the keyboard again. Just get some words down on paper, then the tension will ease, the characters will come into focus.

The problem is, I often don't realize what's giving me stress until I start writing again. I'll notice I'm stressed out, but can't figure out why. My life seems to be going well, I'm not too concerned about anything. But my temper's short, I have to work at being cheerful.

It's because a part of me is missing. Writing is a part of my life and something I really enjoy. When I'm not doing it, I miss it.

Even when it's hard.

It's time for me to get back to it. Time to start banging away at the story that's gnawing at my brain.

I have work to do.