Onward Writing Soldier…

#WritersLife #EvangelistsPawn

For those of you that actually care, I’m going to give you a peek inside my head…or that special place that I call “The Attic”. For the last month I have been absolutely stumped by a simple chapter. I wrote the chapter…but I knew that it wasn’t right. It’s written in a very important part of the book: The end of the second act. I’m not going to get into all of the mechanics of story structure work; let’s just agree that the chapter I wrote would have wrecked the book. Unfortunately, I couldn’t compose a suitable situation…and the characters sure weren’t helping me out. Victoria, Becky Ann, Lucky and the rest of the folks stuck in 1958 Red Bank, Tennessee have been middling about for the last month, waiting for something to happen.
Finally…and I mean FINALLY, it all came together for me this morning. I’ve deleted the troublesome chapter, and rewrote my outline for the final act…lots of changes. New folks get a reprieve from the guillotine…and others meet their maker.

“Onward, writing soldier. Marching toward THE END.”

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My Masseuse, Courtney…

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I haven’t visited my masseuse, Courtney, in about five weeks.

After a month of  creaking and moaning, I decided that it was time for a little tune-up.

It didn’t take long under Courtney’s trained fingers to determine that I needed a little more than a tune-up.

“You haven’t been exercising? All you’ve been doing is sitting at your desk…writing.”

I wanted to lie, but she knew my back as well as she knew her three children.

“Naw. I’ve been stuck at the desk.”

She sighed that sigh, mothers make when their child threw rocks at the hornet’s nest…after being told not to.

I’ve told you, the more you exercise, the less you have to see me. I know some of these things I do to you have to hurt. Mr. Gates, do you like me hurting you.”

I picked my head up from the head rest and found her soft, caring…yet somewhat sadistic eyes. “No, Courtney. I’m not really into the pain thing.”

She laughed and dug both hands into my trapezius muscle. I stifled a small scream while she made biscuits on the tight screen of muscle on the left side of my neck.

“Before you leave, we’re gonna go over your exercise protocols.” She pinched a stubborn trigger point, causing my toes to curl and my mind to consider less friendly greetings. “This is gonna hurt worse every time you don’t do what you’re supposed to do.”

I did visit my masseuse and chiropractor this morning. While I was a little loose and fast with our actual conversation, the pain was real in this morning’s session. Not because Courtney isn’t capable of doing her job. I suffered today because I didn’t follow her directions regarding proper maintenance of my “body machine” between visits to the “mechanic”.

Artists…the same thing goes for us. The longer we stay away from our task…creating new art…our skills become stiff. If we wait too long, we’ll need to start over from scratch. Learning old skills as if they were new.

Life throws us all kinds of curves, but find some time to write, draw, sing, compose something today. Don’t let your skills become stiff.

Otherwise, Courtney may have to manhandle you.

Today’s the Day…

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It could be tomorrow…

Or the day after…

Writer’s are (probably) the world’s biggest procrastinators. We can find things to do to keep us away from the probable failure that we going to concoct while sitting at the desk. Mine is “Social Media”. I think I do my best composing when I’m arguing politics with someone on Facebook.

But I know where I’m supposed to be…

If you’re a writer…or an artist…or an accountant…

Or whatever. It’s time to sit down and do what you’re supposed to be doing.

For me…It’s writing.