There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed. -- Ernest Hemingway
Writing can't be a feasible aspect in one's life unless it takes a certain amount of priority. Thus it was, when I was single, I could write until the keys threatened to rattle off my keyboard and no amount of Visine could hide the fact that I was staring at a computer screen for hours every day.
But then I got married and had kids. Writing gradually moved further and further to the bottom of my "Important Things To Do" list. Pretty soon it felt as though writing was something I did in a previous life, something I vaguely remembered doing. I rarely attended writers group meetings -- I still rarely attend, thanks to having two young boys and a pregnant wife.
But now that I've made the step into the publication world, that priority has shifted a little closer to where it was in my bachelor days.
However, there's one little problem. Now that I've been out of the game for so long, I simply sit and stare at the blank page on my word processor, watching the little cursor endlessly blink. This is tough. I need to get back into writing mode.
Of course, I find little excuses here and there. I have to work on my author's website. My publisher needs input on the cover art of my upcoming novella. A diaper needs changing. A book needs reading. Facebook needs updating. The lawn needs mowing . . .
And the little cursor continues to blink, waiting for me to write something . . . ANYTHING!
It's time to relearn how to lose myself in the world of fiction writing. Practice makes perfect.
Dude . . . I swear that cursor just skipped a blink.