Your body ain’t got a switch you can flip when you want to write like a genius.
Stop digging in your belly button looking for it and write.
Outlining will cure cancer before it’ll cure the bad writing days. Let that friggin’ ridiculous wordsmithing happen. That means you’re writing. It also means you have a future in writing, since that double-thick shitshake will need re-writing.
Yes, it feels fantabulous when you awaken with ideas lighting up your brain. Don’t believe your body or your thoughts when they’re telling you, “Eh, I might as well get extra other stuff done instead of writing for that half hour.” You do not have to be any kind of uberhero when you sit down to write.
A hundred words a day adds up like that beer money you remember cashing in in college. And you know what happens when that beer money fills up? A trunk full of the good stuff and a buzz that lasts a whole freakin’ week.
That was a metaphor.
Honesty, preparation, and taking the writing to heart are so much more important than the so-called muse. The muse isn’t lady luck. It’s not lightning. That writing spirit won’t strike anywhere near as often if you stalk it like a spawn-camping troll on That New Shooter Game 66.
Learning to outline (or learning more about it) helps. Practicing writing from the ideas stashed on your laptop helps. Prompts and writing goals and NaNoWriMo? They. All. Help.
Do a little of one of those, then write toward your true goal, whatever that may be.
‘Cause I guarantee you that publishing that short story or finishing that first draft will feel way better than a whole year of moldy dreams piling up in your brain.
Snatch that slippery, wriggling half hour of writing time on Monday. Then do it again the next day. If you miss a day, don’t think about making up that lost time. That’s how you get overwhelmed. Writing’s a puke-inducing roller coaster for a reason. Those who get off can’t handle the ride.
That was also a metaphor.
An inspiring one, not a naughty one.
You can reach that writing paradise. That one. The one in your head right now. Accept that you’re not going to be in the mood all the time. Understand that you will step in some stanky dog yak while you’re writing sometimes. The journey will have glory moments too, and you can gamble your whole bohunkus on that. Some of the best scenes you write will be on days you had a migraine or a pulled muscle or a rage-on at the world.
Yeah, that was metaphor number three.
What mood do you think I’m in while I write this?
Don’t matter. I friggin’ wrote it. And it was fun.