A blank screen, a blank page
And a blank mind as well;
If this life of mine's a stage
Where is inspiration's well?
—"Writer's Block?" (A recent poem of mine.)
Sometimes I think that the bane of a writer's existence is a fella named Procrastination. You'll remember him. He's shadowy, dark (at least since he lost his plastic raincoat), and makes smileys on his swords.
However, dramatizing Procrastination will do little-to-no-good if you're trying to get out of his grip. In fact, I'd say that by writing this post, I'm procrastinating. It's sad but true.
Here's a thousand-dollar piece of advice for ye olde writers: write. Always write. The more you write, the less you procrastinate. Sometimes you'll write junk, but the more you write, the less junky your junk writing will get. Don't procrastinate. Turn off the internet if you need to. If you really want a kick in the pants, do NaNoWriMo (and take it seriously).
Because you can't sit around and wait for inspiration to show up. You have to go looking for him if you're ever going to find him.
Obviously, I haven't yet mastered this piece of advice, which is one of the many reasons why I don't have a thousand dollars. Actually, I'm pretty much being a hypocrite by writing this post while I'm supposed to be working on the Immortal Man.
So my wise and pithy saying for today is, in essence: go and write.
There's not much more to it than that.
Have fun. I need to go work on my story. Feel free to give me a kick in the pants if I don't have two thousand words written by this time tomorrow.
POST SCRIPTUM, approx. 1 1/2 HOURS LATER:
I wrote a thousand words. Hurrah for not-procrastinating! ^_^ Here's a snippet from a character I really like, while he and my MC were playing word games:
"You're smart. Brave, maybe, if that means anything."
"Thanks." Will eyed the man's stun rod. "You're quick."
"Maybe that's not as flattering. You can't exchange a compliment with a compliment?"
"I haven't had an opportunity to find a redeeming trait."
A hoarse laugh erupted from the hooded man. "All too true. I doubt you'll find much to compliment in me."
Something about the man's voice unnerved Will. He tried to put on a more bold face. "You're calm and collected. Aloof and analytic. Is that part of your mysterious aura?"
"I dislike alliteration, if you don't mind."
Will answered with another question. "Do you ever let anyone see your face?"
The hooded man stopped. Will thought he saw the glitter of the man's eyes in the shadows. "Only when they're about to die."
I'm going to go now, but remember: always write. Keep writing. Don't stop for trivial things.
And watch out for Procrastination.