Sometimes when the words don't form, the plot doesn't thicken, the blanks are shot in place of loaded prose, writing isn't much fun. But when the pictures are painted with perfect metaphors or similes or sassy repartee, writing is as fun as fun can get.
How to get from blanks to bluster is the mystery of writing. One day you're empty and dry as the desert. And then your words sprout to life like spring tulips and daffodils, colorful, bountiful, and full of life - or death if you're writing thrillers.
Writers tend to love formulas, disciplines, or like gamblers: "sure things" to keep them engaged in the creative process. I for one have none of these. But then I'm not a "successful" author. I'm a writer who has stories to tell, hopefully created to touch lives. No one demands my time or is anxious for my next novel.
Regardless of the lack of notice or interest, I prepare a story with vigilance and desire to always improve. I like my stuff. I write the way I want to read. I attempt to make a movie within a novel's framework, hoping my readers can see the characters and the scenes and experience the emotion. The spiritual aspect is a necessary piece whether covert or overt. It brings a dimension that can't be omitted.
The difficulties of creating a story, of getting the words right, of seeing it through to its end, can be taxing, frustrating, disappointing, or aggravating. We watch as words fail to appear as we wish they would. But then we get that rush of words, that amplification of a character's psyche, the expansion of the storyline, the hurried clamor of descriptions and actions to fill page after page, and we know.
We know. We know we're writers. We know we love the fun of it. And nothing can replace that kind of fun.
Lord, thank you for allowing me to keep on with this writing thing. It's a privilege to string those words together. Help me to continue. Please. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.