I want to talk about faking it. NO! Not that kind of faking it! I want to talk about the writing kind of faking it. I’m pretty sure every writer does it. I’ll admit I do a good bit of it. I’m faking it now, can you tell? Okay, I’ve never kept it a secret that I’m a neurotic’s neurotic, so when I opened up my calendar two days ago and saw that I was the Brit Babe up to bat for today’s blog post, I panicked, I twitched a bit, I might have even slightly hyperventilated. Then I scrolled through all my old posts for inspiration. None came! I scrolled back through for something I could rewrite. Nothing worked! GAK! That meant I’d have to be original! Double GAK! My brain was tired, my back hurt, I was suffering from eyestrain, and I was hungry! The one thing I didn’t feel was original.
I thought about another garden porn post. I thought about another walking post. I thought about another BDSM at the gym post, especially after my last kettle bells class. Nope! Nothing! Nada! Quick and dirty, that’s what it’s all about, I told myself. Pull it off, I told myself, buck it up! I told myself, you can do it! You’ve done it before. You have a history of doing it, so just do it again! Instead I shambled into the kitchen and fixed myself a peanut butter sandwich, ignoring the ironing that I could do. Ironing sometimes inspires me, but it’s not a happy sort of inspiration … I ate my peanut butter sandwich and scrolled through more old posts and fragments. I checked Facebook and Twitter and my email. I checked them again and waited for something profound to flash before my eyes. Nothing did.
I made myself some more tea. I did a few stretches. I put another load of laundry in to wash. I scrolled some more. I went outside and fed the birds, then scrolled some more.
It hit me after I’d retitled my post four times and deleted multiple first paragraphs, that, more often that not, this is the real path to writing something amazing. A gazillion non-inspiring little things happen, distractions ebb and flow, multiple false starts happen and happen again. Everything feels jerky and restless, and like it’s all disconnected and belongs to someone else.
Aaaaaand! Then it happens! It begins in such a ridiculous way that it’s almost laughable. In fact when it happens I’m seldom actually expecting it to happen, and I’m certainly not expecting anything worthwhile to come of it. Maybe faking it isn’t quite the correct term. Maybe it’s just that I let go of my expectations and slip into ‘play’ mode. Words is words, after all, and what are they for if not to play with? And somewhere in the playing, cool things start happening, like building a Leg ‘go fortress or a sandcastle. Words are playful things when they need to be, things that will lead us somewhere we never really expected to be, somewhere that’s a long way from faking it and miles from where we started.
And that’s when they satisfy! They leave us breathless, and flush-faced and panting as our fingers stumble over the keyboard for more. We get stories that way. They often come to us when we’re faking it, and when we’re laughing at the absurdity of the process. And before we know it, we’re not faking it at all. The earth just moved and there might have even been fireworks. God, I love it when that happens!
But in the meantime, I have to remind myself, it’s okay to fake it. It’s okay to play with it and see what happens. It’s okay not to take myself too seriously. At least for this moment I’m having a short break from taking myself too seriously. I’m sure I’ll get back to it tomorrow, but if I can’t let my hair down with the Brit Babes and with the lovely folks who read our blog, then who can I let my hair down with? And if I can’t play with the words then what’s the point?
Just want to let you lovelies know that my alter-ego, Grace Marshall's AN EXECUTIVE DECISION is FREE on Amazon right now so go nab yourself a copy and enjoy some playful, sexy, romantic words. Here are the links!
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