When people tell me to take it easy, I usually react like this: fuck patience. I want things fast, and when it includes writing, gosh, I wish there was a pill I could take like in the movie Limitless, and write my book in six hours. My story would be brilliant, and perfect by the first draft. How cool would that be? Life on life’s terms? Yeah. Right.
The truth of the matter is, there’s no such pill on the market. And even if that pill existed, I would think twice before taking it. First, because I don’t take pills of any kind anymore (except the ones that are really necessary and won’t mess with my mind and sanity). Second, because writing is a process. It’s like giving birth to a child. It takes nine months to make a baby. It takes years to write a book. For me at least, it takes years. My thinking process evolves constantly, and a book doesn’t take two or three drafts, but at least fifteen, including rewrites. It’s painful. It’s beautiful. It’s worth the time and effort when the job is finally done.
I have a tendency to be over-critical of my work. I ask myself the same questions, over and over again. Is the story good? Does it make sense? Will it speak to people? I’m not here to give you fluff. I write about life, my life, and use fictional characters to basically tell you everything I do, think and dream of. Writing feels like cutting a piece of my own flesh and putting it on paper. It truly feels this way for me.
I have a day job. Hobbies. Friends. Commitments. A boyfriend. Cats. All of that takes away from the writing time. And I do get mad at myself for not giving my muse more attention. I wish I could write more. Do more. Life on life’s terms. Life asks of me to be there for others, before being there for my selfish self. So the writing sometimes takes more time than I like. But the end result often appears to be better than expected.
Because life makes me grow. Life gives me inspiration. Life proves to me on a daily basis that my art is versatile. Writing takes away my fears and worries. Writing gives me freedom to dig into myself deeper, and find wonderful treasures. Why should I rush through this? Why should I believe writing a book in six hours would be the best deal ever?
Life on life’s terms simply means time is not my enemy, but my ally. And as a dedicated writer, time helps me improve my craft. I heard from many people I should only work on my books, not blog as often, not be on social sites, not do this, not do that, but you know what? This is just something that doesn’t work for me. Maybe it works for others. I need to embrace the experience. Writing is my passion. If I start putting impossible deadlines on my work, I won’t go anywhere. I’ll probably die before the book is finished.
Life isn’t supposed to be rushed. Nor is writing. I’ll just keep telling myself these words over and over again to prevent the muse from screaming and kicking in the background.