The Lights are on but Nobody’s Home

Gallery Masks - Shakespeare Festival - Bruce Witzel photo

A writer’s life is not for the weak-kneed or faint of heart. Well, I suppose I should speak for myself. Each writer brings his or her our own personality into the mix. For me, it is most certainly a roller-coaster ride at times.

I always wanted to be one of those people who had a regular schedule for household tasks so I didn’t get behind or one of those people who savoured a good novel a few pages at a time every night before bed. Alas, that was not meant to be. I am the marathon, clean until you drop person because everything has gotten so out of hand and company is arriving soon or the devour a book, not being able to put it down, holding it one hand while stirring a pot on the stove with the other or dropping it into the bathtub.

Thus, it is with writing. I am in a stage now, where if I could, I would write twenty-four hours a day until the entire story is out of me just to get it out of me. Sometimes my head feels so stuffed with these characters and what they are determined to do and say that I feel like I’m walking around the real world in a fog. I use to get a feeling akin to this right before a big exam when I had crammed so much in my head that the desire to spew it all out on the page was so intense I could hardly wait for the test booklet to plop on the desk in front of me.

Out of Town google imageI’ve come up with a new way to explain things to friends and family. During this intense period of writing, consider me out of town working for five day stints. Whatever you get from me in those five day periods in the way of nagged after tasks done or simple communication is a bonus and be grateful. But take heart, I can only maintain the pace for five days at a stretch and then I’ll be back – off the road, home for a few days to catch up on things and re-enter your worlds.

Now, I’m not saying this isn’t challenging. Who accepts someone is out of town when they’re sitting right there? Albeit, looking somewhat vacant and acting deaf but still . . . right there.

I’m coming down the home stretch on the completed manuscript for Chasing Down the Night – only one chapter and then the ending to go. At this stage I never know if what has spewed out in such a rush is inspiration or crap. This isn’t the time for too much analysis on that score. The story is in a rush to be told and nothing can stand in its way.

It’s a day in the writer’s life, my friends, and as someone much wiser than me used to quote – all will be well, and all will be well and all manner of things will be well.

Biltmore Hotel, Phoenix Arizons, Bruce Witzel photo