With chewing gum, I expect to gnaw and gnaw and get not further than sucking the flavor out of the mass. Certain foods mimic gum in that I could chew them forever, and they are still rendered inedible (I adore chicken-flavored pseudo chewing gum. Who doesn’t?). But what about a WIP that seems to be going in circles with no end in sight?
Even with proclamations that I would finish Little Rooms, toss it to my beta reading crew and move on, I simply haven’t gone as far as originally intended. Instead, I edited what I’d already written, adding bits, pieces and other goodies to the verbiage in hopes of making it even better! Well, my good intentions made the chewing process even longer. And now my jaws are tired.
Why can’t I just swallow my pride and get the WIP done? If I can’t even do that, maybe I should spit it out into one of my filing cabinets, slam the drawer and get something new to eat… something lighter, sweeter and not so difficult for my teeth to mash.
God, I wish it could be that easy. It’s not, because my “mother” is sitting across from my computer, staring me down in an attempt to get me to finish the last bite. If I clean my WIP, I’ll get a reprieve for dessert! Don’t I know there are writers all over the world STARVING for a WIP that’s almost ready to go? If I don’t finish my WIP, I’ll have to eat it tomorrow when it’s more congealed and stale than it was today.
I’m losing my appetite, which has me thinking about something my writer buddy Sheila Redling said about “feeling the heavy-lidded magic” that comes from a story you cannot stay away from. You dream about it, lust for the characters and create new twists in your head on a consistent, if not hyperactive, level. She understands all too well the drudgery of working on a WIP you do not love… one where the story is good and the best of intentions are present… but your heart is elsewhere. She listened to her heart, and is as happy as a tornado in a trailer park (to quote Mater from CARS). As for me, I’m still at the table with my napkin tucked into my shirt, looking forward to the next meal but unable to start it.
Maybe I could shove this WIP into my shoe and dump it when I take the trash out later? Or I could feed it to the dog. Well, I could even spit it out into my napkin, but it’s too big right now and my “mother” would surely see it.
So I sit. And I chew. Chew. Chew. How about you?