The clock shows twenty minutes to twelve at night, and here I am wondering when the supposed inspiration will strike. I’m putting words on paper and have been, for what seems like a century, but in reality, it is only three months. Heavens,
I crave release from the tension in my shoulders, neck and brain but a deadline is a deadline. The tedious journey of getting the story down continues. The necessity of discipline to achieve goals rattles once more in the back of my mind. Reaching for a tissue I swipe at the tears of frustration, bite down on the perseverance and take a swig of my cold coffee. Flex my aching shoulders, and onward I go.
Somewhere around two in the morning I finally get the section down and although I’m not happy with the quality of sentences I know the journey has just begun on this new piece of work and it will hopefully be a work of art to someone when it goes into print. Even though I have gone through many tissue boxes and mood swings while getting my stories down, I understand that without tenacity it could not be done. While holding on tightly to the journey never forget that tears make every writer human, and tissues are there to remind us that no matter where you are on your path of writing, everything can be cleaned up.