Did you open up your current wip file and have a look at what you were feverish about before Xmas and peruse it? Did it look like codswaddle to you? Did you have to look up codswaddle? Do you wish you could write a whole NEW book based on the word 'codswaddle'?
Well then, come on in and sit down. The meeting's about to begin.
My name is Jan and I'm a freaked-out writer. I'm terrified to tell my pelvic affiliate that I have wasted the last twelve years of my life pursuing an empty meaningless dream.
I cannot learn to play the accordion!Oh, the other one...well, I'm not giving up that one yet. I still have some fight in me about being a writer. I still BELIEEEEEEEVE! Jimmy Swaggert just came over and thucked me on the forehead. NO, I said THucked me - you know - with the heel of his hand. And now I'm lying on the floor, stars spinning in a slow constellation above me while I type out these words.
That reminds me. When I was in grade 9 I learned to type in typing class with Mr. Cunningham. He hated me. Why? Because I would only learn to TYPE, not to justify, not to set up a proper business letter - NO - only to type words because I was going to be a WRITER not a secretary. It was 1966 or something like that. I got a 50 which I proudly took home to my parents. "See, I'm a writer - I can type. I'm not going to be a secretary so don't even think about that." No worries, said my parents, wouldn't even consider it. Thought you were going to be a veterinarian? I huffed out of the living room, my head held high.
And that my dear fellow sufferers is the truth. The truth is what I write. Day in and day out. So, without moving from wherever you are, join in the Writers' Prayer.
Oh Generic Entity, please look upon me, your humble servant in something or rather and grant me your boon. (what is a boon? oh never mind, you know, you're the great generic entity) Grant me the resilience to withstand the slings and arrows of those who would wish me to do other than I would wish me to do - that is get a real job and quit going on and on about being a writer. Give onto me the ability to sit down and write in a clear and engaging style after playing four hundred and thirty-nine games of Frozen Bubbles. Please allow me to continue in my wondrous deluded state and produce reams of prose so stunning as to...well, stun people, especially that guy from my old high school days who thinks he's so smart just because he's had twelve books published. Thank you in advance...and speaking of advance let my advance rain down upon my humble head in great swarths of luminous moolah.Feel free to modify to suit your own needs.
See you at next month's meeting of The Insecure Writer's Support Group! (go to link for more members)