When I lack inspiration, I can always recap!

Just a warning: I really don't have anything important to say. It's just that I realized it's been a week since I last posted. That's pretty much the only reason I'm posting right now. At 10 PM.

We got more snow! It was coming down so hard this morning that I was told not to go to work. So what did I do? I read. And watched some Netflix. One day my muse will return and I'll finish this stupid book. *headdesk*

We've been in our new house for just over a month now. Only last week did I finally work up the initiative to completely unpack my room. (Okay, not "completely". Just mostly. And I shoved the remaining boxes in my closet. So glad I had a proper closet.)

We still don't have a working dryer. We're using a clothes rack in front of a vent. Works well enough, so long as people remember to bring down their laundry on a regular basis.

Also, last week the cat got his first taste of outside since the old house. He wasn't out long before he was crying to come back in. I think he was overwhelmed. I just hope, with all of the extra space, he'll conduct his hunting away from the house and I won't be stepping on bird bones come spring.

While the neighbors on one side of us remain a relative mystery, the ones on the other side are decidedly less so. Let's just say they make life interesting. And by "interesting", I mean spinning donuts in their car in their yard while blasting country music after 10 PM; having bonfires and drinking beer and singing loudly and off-key to their country music; shooting at targets set up in the cornfield.... And their chickens like to come wandering into our yard. Hershey and Sasha hate that. At least their dogs know their boundaries.

I'm almost starting to miss our old neighbors.

Almost. And then I remember all the facts that came to light after we moved, and that feeling goes away.

Uhg. I know I'm rambling. I'm sorry. As usual, I did have something important to say a few days ago, but I can't remember what.

It's definitely a different world out here, even though we're only 10 minutes further away from most of the places we usually go. Strange how 45 MPH can now feel so slow when it used to feel like speeding.

I've been getting in my bad weather driving practice over the last couple of weeks. First driving at night in a rain/snow mixture, then driving in high wind conditions, and of course plenty of normal night driving.

Maybe if I finally started posting pictures I wouldn't feel so bad when my posts are so short. Ah, well.

One thing I do miss is how warm my old room got in the winter. Maybe part of it was because it was so much smaller than my new one, so it was definitely one pro amid many cons, but.... And now that my room is clean, I find myself in the rare position of needing furniture to fill the empty space. Even a rug or a proper bed for Sasha would help!

So, I just spent 20 minutes writing about nothing relevant. My work here is done.

I'll try not to make it a habit. (Again)

Oh, Look! Another Pointless Post. Oops.

People.

Something big has happened.

I mean HUGE!

It'll blow your socks off.

Okay, so maybe it's not that big to you, but it's big to me: my sister got a blog.

No, not the sister that's a writer. The one that doesn't write at all. The one who doesn't even really like reading. Folks, this is nigh unto a miracle.

Okay, I'll stop picking on her. I'm just happy, and a wee bit excited. Welcome to Blogsphere, Puffin Muffin!

I have nothing else to say.

No. Really. Right now I ought to be editing. I started a group on facebook to post my superhero story. I said I would post twice a week. It's been a week and I haven't added any new scenes. My friends are threatening to pull out the pitchforks and torches. (Well, maybe they haven't, but that's the vibe I'm getting.) I made a promise to post at least one scene today. I haven't done it yet, and I have about an hour before I have to get ready for church.

Aaaaand now my sister wants to watch Lost. I think I'll sneak upstairs to work. I haven't spent quiet time in my room in forever because of Sasha. Who, by the way, is acting strangely angelic lately. I think she's sick.

Yup. I'm done.

Wow. That was sadly brief.

Not the Only One

Too many days like this, where I sit here staring at the screen, the words having abandoned me. What to say? What to write? I know what needs to be written, but the words won’t come.

It sounds far more poetic than it really is. In reality, it’s a huge bother, a predicament that, more times than two, has ended with me banging my head against the nearest surface while I moan and growl in frustration and come so close to swearing it probably is a lie to say I’m not.

Does every writer go through this? Surely C. S. Lewis never had this problem, or Ted Dekker, or Gail Carson Levine?

In writing, as in other areas of my life, I’m prone to think I’m the only one going through my particular issues. Somehow I get the idea they’re unique to me. (How I think that’s possible when I’m living on an earth more than 6,000 years old and the current population is nearly 7 bil., I don’t know, but I do.)

I’ll be browsing blogs, checking out facebook, or (as is most often the case) sitting in church, and something will be said (or written) that will make me jerk to attention. That’s exactly how I feel! The speaker or writer will continue, describing my problems exactly. Time and again it hits me that I’m not alone, I’m not the only one, this is normal and it can be overcome.

And that gives me the power to try again.

An example that has often sprung to mind lately is a sermon I heard a few months ago. A young man who used to come to our church. He and his wife moved down south a couple years ago, where he became the youth pastor at a friend’s church.

All my readers know him as the man who suffered serious heart issues back in August. When he preached at our church, he didn’t spend much time talking about the circumstances surrounding that time. I can’t even remember exactly how he got around to the part that impacted me the most, but when he did, he talked about something I’m very familiar with.

I believe he was talking about prayer, or at least our relationships with God. He described the feeling he said he went through when it seemed like God was distant, like there was this wall separating himself from God, like all his prayers were bouncing off the ceiling. That was when I sat in shock, my mind racing.

Because I’ve had those moments. I’ve had those weeks. I wonder why I don’t feel anything, why nothing seems to be happening. I lie there in silence and fear, breathless and searching, though for what I’m not sure.

I feared that I was the only one who felt that way: like I couldn’t find God, like I was too small to reach Him. I was…hypocritical?...to even really think it, but sometimes it felt like God wasn’t even there.

It was such a relief to know I wasn’t alone, that others had been through it before. And it happens time and again (like I said, mostly in church). Whenever I’m going through something, there will be something mentioned every day – something I hear, something I read, something I see – that reminds me of my struggle and encourages me to keep moving. It’s in those moments that I wonder how I could ever doubt God; His timing is perfect. It’s like He reaches down to tap me on the shoulder. “Pay attention, Amber. This is for you.”

Wow. In the true sense of the word, that really is awesome.

The hard part comes when the moment passes and I’ve descended back into the real world, back into the midst of my struggling. Seconds pass, it fades, and I return to the same old habits. I return to the muddy ruts, dragging myself through and barely getting by. Next week, I’ll hear another sermon that will stir my emotions but probably won’t get past my head and into my heart and back out through actions that change the way I’m moving.

That’s my real problem, in writing and in life in general. I see the obstacle, I ponder over it, I plant my hands on my hips and glare at it, I mutter threats against it. I hear the suggestions, the encouragement, and I start to overcome it. But instead of my hill becoming a speed bump under all the energy I could employ conquering it, it practically becomes a mountain for all the extra time I waste crawling over it.

So what to do? It’s so easy to go back to old habits. My mind defaults to all those practiced motions and methods. How do you break those personal traditions? To a mind that is so focused on the end result and impatient to get there, it’s hard to take it day by day, step by step, like I need to. With every day I hesitate, every step I stumble over, it piles up behind me and I give up before I make any progress.

Hence, presence on this blog is sporadic at best, I haven’t completed a book in more than a year and I’ve been through too many works to count, and I’ve found two dozen different ways to talk about this same personal issue.

Sorry about that.

So this is my plan: if I never post any other time, I need to post on Fridays and Tuesdays. If I post on other days of the week, I can skip those days, but I have to do at least that much. Maybe I'll eventually I'll actually figure out how you're supposed to blog and I'll learn to do it right. Until then....

Four hours later... (Or: Writer's Block: My Recurring Nightmare)

WARNING: RANT!

I've been dealing with Book 2 for years now. To me, this story is the epitome of writer's block. No matter what I do, I can't find a way to get over it. Once upon a time I actually liked the story, but now I'm scared of it. It's like I'm being haunted.

Whenever I sit down to work on it, I end up with a page full of scribbles or nothing on the page at all. My mind just goes blank.

I've suffered one serious writing slump for a good year or more, and I'm starting to think Book 2 deserves part of the blame. It's cramping my creativity. So I decided recently that I'm not writing anything else until I take care of this frustrating book.

I know. It's bad for a writer to hate what they're writing. Thing is, I hate hating it! But I don't know how to view it except with extreme loathing for all of the trouble it's putting me through.

Maybe it's just that I'm still trying to find my writing style, and my issues with Book 2 stem from the fact that I'm not really sure what needs to be done about it. I don't know.

So last night I decided to see if morning writing could help. If I woke early enough and forced myself to write while still half-asleep and not thinking completely rationally, maybe I could clear some headway so when I finally became coherent I could get some work done.

That plan bombed.

I set my alarm for 6:30 and woke to find myself too tired to get out of bed, so I reset the alarm for 7. When 7 rolled around, I hit snooze 5 or 6 times before finally rolling out of bed. (Not like this is unusual or anything. I hit snooze a lot.)

Maybe I should have started writing right then, but I didn't. First I took a shower. Then I went to retrieve my computer cord from the girls' room. (My cord is now the only working computer cord between mine and two of my siblings' laptops.)

Of course, Heather had it plugged into the outlet beside her bed. In the wall against which her bed is set. So I had to devise some way to get around her to reach the cord. Meanwhile the dog took my appearance to mean it was time to wake up, and he was begging to go out.

I finally got the cord, started to ignore the dog and felt bad about it, then fed him and took him outside.

Finally, I returned to my room. 8 o'clock now. I started up the computer and pulled out my Bible to do my devotions. That done, I thought to start writing. But distraction after distraction came up.

Now it's 4 hours since I woke up and I haven't made any progress. I wrote a 300-word story for my Word a Day thing I haven't done in forever, but that's as far as I've got creatively speaking. I've checked the mail, eaten a salad, listened to music, stretched, brushed and brushed and brushed my hair, slammed my head on the desk, checked facebook three times, glared at the blank page in my word processor, braided my hair, and written a mini-rant to myself. So I decided to come on here and share my writing woes with you. Don't you love me?

Now Mom's awake and I'm being reminded to take care of the laundry I've been neglected. Just a minute.

....

I'm back. Everything I've read about dealing with writer's block (if that's what I really have) has offered different suggestions on ways to get rid of it, but on two points most of them agree: take a shower and go for a walk. I've already done the shower thing. Maybe I'll take the dog on a walk. Or perhaps I should wash some dishes.

Or maybe I'll just slam my head on the desk again.

However, these things are suggested (except for head slamming) as a way to clear one's head. Considering my mind is already blank, perhaps they'll just serve as outlets for my procrastination. Though I don't think I'll hear any complaints if I procrastinate by washing dishes.

Have I bored you long enough? I'm sorry.

I think my song for the day is "Knee Deep" by the Zac Brown Band:

Wishing I was knee deep in the water somewhere

Got the blue sky breeze and it don't seem fair

Only worry in the world is the tide gonna reach my chair

I'm going to go wash some dishes now.