Writers Mud

 Shutterstock/Mariusz Lopusiewicz 

 "...libraries had always been a sanctuary, a place that never failed to provide comfort, knowledge, and escapism. A place to redirect her thoughts and spirit to wherever she pleased. A nest made of pages and words, tightly woven to create a refuge of endless possibilities. She ran her hand over the cracked brown leather of the nearest chair, worn in by endless hours of reading beneath the warm light.." - Dacicus

       When writing my book, I can get stuck in productivity mode, (write this many words today/edit this chapter), to the point where I can feel the creativity slowly draining from my work like water dripping from a cracked pipe. So how do I patch the creative leaking? I step away and extract one concept, one question, or person and write about it. 

    The other day I was filling in the gap of a chapter, a brief scene, nothing essential to the story. It was my goal that afternoon, nothing too lengthy, just my "productivity" for the day. The short of it was, the main character was shown where a library was, so I wrote a boring paragraph using boring words of how she was led down the boring hall, and ended up in a room full of books. I had no passion as my fingers wisped across the keyboard, completing my duty for the day, feeling only a minute flash of accomplishment. Then it hit me. I LOVE LIBRARIES. What was I doing? The scene might have been insignificant in the grand scheme, but since when are libraries insignificant?? I deleted the whole paragraph and started over. I stopped, closed my eyes and envisioned a room full of comfy leather chairs, tall wooden bookshelves, too high for me to read the titles on the top shelf without use of the wooden step stool which leaned against the far wall. I smelled the room, I saw the warm lighting through the maroon cloth of the lampshades in my mind. And just like that I had written two pages full of life, full of something meatier for the reader to sink their teeth into. 

    Since then, this method of  singular extraction has been my go-to for writers block, or what I like to call, writers mud. It's not that I can't write, I can always put words to paper, but at times the lovely, bubbly pool of inspiration turns to a muddy pit when I poke at it too much, demanding that the inspiration be directed where and when I please. The same goes with life, I find myself duped by my own belief that constant productivity and movement in a forward direction will cultivate success and with it, happiness. When in reality, happiness IS the success, and sometimes you have to sit and be still to recognize the joy to be had in what you're already doing.  

    

-India Rose