Walking home yesterday after buying a toilet plunger for my glamorous Tuscan life, I engaged in one of my favorite pastimes—asking myself irrelevant questions. Suppose I could fall in love with a man who was, say, perfect?
Let’s see. He’s taller than me, which really narrows the field, but, hey, it’s a fantasy. He’s just my age, a little rugged, with a great head of hair. Probably Scots, so he can sound like Sean Connery. He will adore me—literally.
Oh no, I said to my fantasy. Better than fifty percent odds he’ll die before me. No thanks.
No, no, said my fantasy. He’ll outlive you. And you’ll have thirty great years of good health to enjoy the world together. And did I mention he’ll adore you?
But then, the question: What if I could choose between Mr. Scots Great-Head-of-Hair and writing a beautiful book that lived up to my vision for it and—it’s a fantasy—was important enough to win a respectable award?
Girls, I took the book. Not only that, I didn’t even have to ponder. I instantly took the book.
Now, I’m not really sure how sane this is, but I tell this story to make a point.
You should want it. And you should want it because you love it.
Sure, there are days when your story is just a snarly mess. But overall, the time I spend writing is the best time of my life. And the rush, when it comes together, just clicks the whole universe into place in one exquisite moment.
For the second time this month, I told someone, “I’m not here to convince you to be a writer. The Village Writing School exists to help people who want to tell their stories. It’s not about proselytizing for the Church of Writers. There are enough of us already.”
I know that a lot of us have a story we feel we should tell. Or we were once told we were good writers, and that feels like a sign that we should write. Or we are creative people looking for a creative outlet. So we slog forth, and we get some satisfaction from it from time to time, but it’s the satisfaction that comes from doing something we think we should.
Give yourself a break. Set yourself free. There are many people walking around in the world who are not writers, and they are perfectly happy. You could be one of them.
But, if you would trade Mr. Scots Great-Head-of-Hair for your own beautiful book, then you’ve already been bitten by the writing vampire. Give in. The undead have their own pleasures.
And if you know a Mr. Scots Great-Head-of-Hair, you can give him my number. But just make sure he understands, I’m a writer first.
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Saturday, May 26, I’ll be teaching my online workshop, Thirteen Ways to Make Your Characters Come Alive. The time is Noon, Central, but the class is recorded so you can watch it later. More info and to register HERE.
Character is the most important element of your story. Make sure yours are unforgettable.
–Alison