Or
That Moment Before I Write
I have recognized a familiar pattern in my writing habits. It's called hesitation. It happens at a very specific point in the process. I've finished my outline, or, I'm deep enough into my outline that I'm chomping at the bit to get at the actual storytelling. And yet, even in my eagerness, I pause. And I wonder, why do I pause?
It's probably clear to others, but the light only came on a few days ago. I pause because of doubt. In my mind, often so soft I barely hear its poisonous words, doubt asks me, who are you to dare to write a story? What gives you the right? Are you sure you want to fail at this, too? How audacious of you. How foolish of you. How stupid.
In a way, the pause is the storm. The calm comes later, at a certain point.
In the 1980s I went to Marine Corp Bootcamp, MCRD San Diego. In the second month - if I recall correctly - we went to Pendleton for marksmanship and basic squad infantry training. One of the things we did was to practice throwing a grenade. The Marine corps is filled with efforts to brainwash the troops. With hand grenade practice, they take you down to pit #1 which is pockmarked with missing concrete chips. The drill instructor told us that some boot had dropped their grenade and couldn't kick it into the little sump (a drain in the middle of the forward wall and the floor) so the drill instructor threw the recruit out, sacrificing himself for this pathetic worm.
They hyped the experience up so that when it was my turn I was sweaty and nervous. Then, I pulled the pin as instructed, and all the nervousness was gone and I was calm. There wasn't some newly born confidence.Simply, I'd realized at that moment it was too late to worry about the grenade and what it would do. I was committed to the action. There was no turning back, no putting the pin back into the grenade.
Time to throw.
When I do write, the moment I start that first sentence of that first paragraph of that first chapter, I'm at peace with my decision to write. I'm committed to the act of telling that story. Yes, later I'll have my doubts as so many writers seem to have and then quickly recover. But at that moment of first commitment, I am at peace with my decision to be audacious, to dare, to risk failure.
Time to tell a story.
