It could be worse--much worse

Last Thursday was one of Those Days. Nothing terrible happened, just frustrated with a few freelance writing assignments I was trying to complete. People wouldn’t take or return my calls and I tried not to take it personally, but I can be pretty insecure. In high school, if I saw a group of girls with their heads together, naturally I’d think they were talking about what I was wearing.

All I really wanted to do was work on the manuscript for the novel I’m writing with my writing partner Joan. We are in the middle of a really fun adventure (we think!), and I tend to slow us down when my writing-for-hire gig gets in the way.

I took a break from the computer and folded some laundry to gain some perspective. I know several writers in my writing circle who work full-time jobs and still manage to carve out precious hours to pursue their passion. Then I remembered reading in Stephen King’s “On Writing” how he wrote “Carrie” while balancing a typewriter on a child-sized desk in a corner of their mobile home. His real job was cleaning and doing laundry at a hotel. His images of maggot-infested sheets he’d put to good use in future books. And the idea for Carrie’s famous shower scene came from cleaning a bathroom and reloading the feminine hygiene vending machine.

So, I never know where inspiration lurks and I’m highly aware that there are much worse jobs out there. For now I’ll borrow a line from my son—Until the band makes it… (or for Joan and me—Until the book sells…) and I’ll continue to press on.