The fabulous D.C. McMillen:
Thanks for letting me take up a bunch of
space on your blog today, Kelly! I am so happy to be here. The change of
scenery suits me, I think. ;)
As I’m writing this, I’m sitting on my sofa
willing my boyfriend to shut the television off so he’ll stop distracting me
with inane questions like, “Did he just say RPM’s? What’s rotating on that
machine? NOTHING, that’s what! How big of an idiot is this narrator?” Of course
I assume the question is rhetorical and so I don’t bother answering. Instead I
offer sort of a murmur that will likely be construed as agreement.
What’s that? Why don’t I bother to move my
ass off the sofa and go write in another room, you ask? Well, the boyfriend and
I live in a 630 sq ft unit. Short of forcing the dog and cat to share the prime
real estate that is our bed or locking myself in the washroom, there is not
really anywhere for me to hide away inside this apartment. Yes, I’m aware I
could go to the coffee shop downstairs and partake in their free internet but
that would involve showering and running a brush through my hair. Besides, the
boyfriend will leave for work, sooner rather than later if my Jedi mind tricks
work their magic.
Okay, it’s time to fess up. Life’s
distractions that often hit me in the form of an angry boyfriend yelling at
Myth Busters or How It’s Made, an hour long conversation with my mother about
whether or not going together for Botox injections could be considered a good
bonding experience or just a fun night out, and my as of yet incurable Twitter
addiction are only part of my writing problems. I’m in a mood for baring my
soul, people, so now I am going to confess my real issue:
I am not an efficient writer.
Don’t get me wrong, I consider myself a
talented writer (I say with only a hint of egotism). I simply go through phases
that involve an extreme lack of discipline.
My stories usually start with a spark. I
see a man on the subway, a picture in a magazine, or perhaps overhear a
ludicrous conversation at the dog park and my creative mind cranks into
overdrive. I reach for my laptop and the fingers start flying across the
keyboard. After a thousand words or so, I look back over what I’ve written and
begin formulating a plot, notes, and developments. Or not. Sometimes I dismiss
the writing as pure rubbish. Sometimes I genuinely like the beginnings of my
story but I am distracted by another prompt that turns me in a new direction.
And then another. By the end of, say, a month I may have half a dozen stories
saved on my computer that are nowhere near completion.
Obviously, this lack of follow through can
make one feel a little discouraged. Now, if I was writing this confession even
just a year ago, I might have replaced discouraged
with utterly fucking hopeless. Thankfully
I have learned a thing or two since I first started down this road. I may start
several stories that go nowhere, yes. But then I write something that somehow
grips me to the point that the characters will not let go until I have finished
their story. I launch into a writing frenzy, barely popping up for air, and I
don’t stop until I’ve typed the words The
End. And then I delete the words The
End because who really ends a story with that these days?
Luckily my lack of discipline does not extend
to the editing phase. I’m not sure why this is but my current theory is that my
brain does not consider the story truly complete until it’s out of my hands and
sitting in the inbox of a publisher.
So, dear viewers, now that I’ve revealed my
serious issues with writing, why not reveal a couple of your hurdles? Come
on...we’re friends now, right?
D.C. is obsessed with Twitter and invites you to look her up at @mcmillendc, her blog, or on Facebook, where she goes sometimes.
