I am writing two books at once. And by “writing” I mean I am occasionally working on finishing the one I’ve been working on for three years while meanwhile have fits of inspiration about writing something entirely different and unrelated. This was not my intention. This was not in the plan. The plan was to finish the first book over a year ago, but I’ve had so much fear surrounding just writing a simple ending, not to mention living my life in general, that it just didn’t happen.
“Okay,” I promised myself last year, sometime around December/January. “I can do this. I can hold a job and write at the same time. I’ll do it. I’ll get it done. I’ll set a deadline. By March I will have finished my manuscript.” At the time, my manuscript was mere inches away from being completed, my snowflake outline plowed through and set aside. Yet here I am, in the tail end of March a whole year later, still pushing to finish that manuscript.
I let the fear get in the way and had no taskmaster but my pride, so I managed to push off completing this project for some time. I don’t think there is anything wrong with waiting to be inspired by your muse, but the problem is your muse is a fickle bitch and she might come up with another idea for you on which to focus your energy and attention on.
So, if I might take a moment to channel Mary Catherine Gallagher style, I would like to say: “Well, my feelings would be best expressed in a description of that scene in Bridesmaids where Maya Rudolph is running across the street in that priceless couture wedding dress, desperately in search of a bathroom to relieve herself of the poisoned food-toxins trying to evacuate her large colon. She doesn’t make it to the bathroom. She doesn’t even make it across the street. Instead she sits down in the middle of the road and says something to the effect of ‘It’s happening. It happened,’ and then waves the cars in the street around her with a defeated flap of her hand.
Ok, maybe that’s a bit of an extreme metaphor, but whatever. The point is you gotta go when you gotta go. And I’m not going to apologize for spoiling that scene for anyone who hasn’t seen Bridesmaids, because I really hate, nay, I abhor poop and barf jokes and I’m really mad a Judd Apatow for insisting the screenwriters put that in there to make the movie more guy friendly. Plus, that particular part of the scene where a woman poops in a $15,000 wedding dress scarred me to no end, and I wish I had been warned that that was how the scene ended. So there.