Sometimes writing is like digging an escape tunnel, with a little teaspoon as my only tool. There are times when I’ve worked long and hard on my tunnel, but then it starts to feel as if I’m digging my own grave. I’m in deep, my arms are like lead, and what little air there is hangs heavy and stale.
I love writing, I really do. But it can be such a struggle when I lose my inspiration.
Sometimes my solution is to crawl out of tunnel, cover it with a tarp, and for a while I pretend that it’s not there.
After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder…right?
That can be nice, but then I risk ignoring the tunnel for too long. Getting back to work is all the harder when my muscles are no longer used to the work.
Where did I leave off, anyway?
Perhaps a better method is to just keep at it. I can build muscle and motivation by digging daily, even just in small amounts. When I need some fresh air I can leave the main tunnel, and dig smaller ones for ventilation. Bit by bit, shovelful by shovelful, I’ll reach the end.
Taking time to write small stories, or accepting writing challenges may seem like distraction. But it is good practice, and gives my mind something new to think about while still writing.
Then I will break the surface and come into the sunlight, and that is when I can give myself a good, long rest.
…until I feel the urge to dig another tunnel, and I take up my shovel with eager hands.