We share our insecurities and support each other with empathy, sympathy or practical suggestions.
|"Odd creatures, writers..."|
Today I would like to address a concern that just about every writer I have ever known shares. It is something that haunts our dreams, something that dictates our actions, something that makes our loved ones look at us with one eyebrow raised and extremely quizzical expressions, as though they have just turned over a rock and seen something truly strange come scuttling out.
|The way writers view their words|
I am speaking of the terror we feel when we are nowhere near anything that can capture our precious, priceless words as they spring fully armed to our heads, rather like Athene in the old Greek legends.
We have various ways of combating that terror. Some people carry around notebooks, some use a permutation of a Dictaphone, garnering stares from people who find the spectacle of someone yakking into a box rather diverting in an odd fashion.
|Wine stain in left-most towel|
So what do you do if you accidentally use your deathless words to mop up spilled red wine (see above)?
|Wow! Alas! Phooey!|
Of course, then I mis-file my mental note and bewail my fate and mourn the loss of my deathless words.
It's always a puzzlement... (I have to bring Yul Brynner in this somehow.
Well, it's one of those conditions that few of us have conquered. for myself, if (I say IF) I become famous, my descendants will not have to starve in the streets or work in a sweat shop or kow-tow to people who have no more qualification for leading people than silverfish. And who are, perhaps, less beautiful than silverfish. (I was going to post a photo of a silverfish here, but after looking them over I decided that I'd rather chew my fingernails.)
What to do? Well, like many of our insecurities, I just live with it. I have actually found, when I have located my deathless words, once lost, that they weren't all that great after all, and what I actually wrote in desperation, just knowing that the story would be ruined - simply ruined! - actually were more fully formed, satisfying and colorful than what I thought I'd lost.
...but without insecurities, would we be real writers?
This is a blog hop with lots of good participation. Go forth and read!