The Power of a Few Kind Words

I had a bit of a slow start today with my writing. For some reason I was dreading getting started. I didn't know where I was going with the scene. I knew where I had to go, I just had no idea how I was going to get there. My mind was completely blank. I was beginning to think this story just did not want to be told, despite how much I wanted to tell it. I began to procrastinate - the death knell for a Capricorn. Procrastinating makes me hyperventilate.

I checked my email, erased all the crap from people trying to sell me everything from stocks to Viagra (does anyone actually ever answer these emails??), then zipped onto my on-line critique group. I had received a new critique for chapter three. I opened it up and zipped down to her note at the bottom to read a quick overall impression of the chapter. It was very positive. Words like growth as a writer, polished, loved the humour, admired the descriptions. I started back at the top and read through, re-reading all the parts where she marked 'good' or 'LOL' or some other positive comment that made me smile and clap gleefully and, yes, even bounce a time or two in my chair.

Suddenly I felt my mojo coming back. I can tell this story. I can.

I opened up the file, realizing I had killed half an hour with my procrastinating and only had an hour and a half left. I read through what I had written last week and made a few improvements. Another half hour down, one to go. Time to tackle the new stuff. My fingers tapped on the keys...what to write...how to start...

The last words I had written glared up at me. "I see," Devlin said. Wow. Heady stuff.

So then what? There seemed little else to say after that. But I could do this, right? I have growth and polish and humour on my side, after all. Then my fingers started moving as my muse slowly roused herself from the deep slumber she'd fallen into over the weekend.

"I see," Devlin said. There seemed little else to say. Or too many things, all of which should remain unsaid.

Ahhhhh...that was my brain sighing in relief as the flood gates flew open and the words started to flow once again. Six pages in an hour. I feel vindicated. Maybe this story wants to be told after all.