Ready to Write Again

I caught myself making lists of words again.  Is that your writing habit too? Words from novels I’m reading or from the mouths of news commentators, or from the little girl at the ice cream store. “Vanilla is so mundane.”

I’m a list-maker from way back, part of the reason I find teaching satisfying.  Teaching is all about lists of students, lists of assignments, lists of who didn’t submit.

You can laugh. You know who else makes lists? Good cooks.

• Pinterest users want choices presented in groups of 4 or 7 or 12.
• Goodreads even has a category titled Listopia. 
• Google is the king of list-making, but they call it ranking.
• Sports fans call their lists stats so they don’t appear domestic.
• Web designers are list makers, trying to draw order out of chaos. “Okay, everybody talks, but one at a time and 140 characters only!”

I also count things in groups, like the number of buds on a flowering plant, the number of steps I’m walking up, the number of exits from a room.  People make fun of these habits, but they are my signals that I need to write again.  They are part of the process.

I spent an eight month sprint learning how to self-publish. Then I was learning how to promote a published fantasy novel in a six-week drudge. So I haven’t written a CREATIVE word for nearly 10 months.  The soul suffers; I laugh less. The creative urges spill out in other ways, though, mostly in bad habits.

What are your signals that you’re ready to write again?

** Making lists of words. We covered that.

** Making lists of names for characters: groups of names for clan members like Orin, Oria, Orthus.  Roman, Romulus, Remus.  Then changing the names slightly so they are mine – Omanni, Omulus, Reimus.

** The urge to buy writing materials. When I order notepads and pens, and a new desk blotter, that’s a sure signal that I’m ready for some creative writing.  I search for those pens that write in several languages.  When I opened a package to find a big sketchpad I had forgotten that I ordered, I had to chuckle.  That’s for genealogy charts and topical maps, should the need arise.

**  Then there are the white moments. I can remember waiting for a subway train after a long shift at a day job, and the essential scene for a story played out in my head, the characters stomping around and demanding attention. I pulled out a notepad and pen to scribble down the bits before memory betrayed me.

Of course, I no longer work a day job, or ride the train. Ah, the good old days.

** Then one afternoon, words become weighty, too unwieldy to shape a sentence. I cannot hear people talking or make sense of the prattle on the TV screen. That’s a sure signal that I need to seek solitude, the long hours spent alone with my ears plugged so I can exist in another world of characters.

Good thing I already bought that desk blotter.

What are your signals that you’re ready to write again?  I’m making a list from your comments here.