The Howling Gluttony of the Blank Page
I know that every snowstorm starts with a single flake. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m biologically incapable of approaching anything without the attitude that I’m gonna do this whole thing in one go, tonight.
It is getting better. There are things I’ve been chipping away at, a little bit every day, over years now, and for that I’m thankful. Writing is not one of them. It’s all or nothing, and as you may be beginning to suspect, today it’s nothing.
I mean, except what you’re reading right this instant.
The fact is I’ve never been able to approach writing in an incremental, daily fashion. It’s always a case of today I’m going to eat this entire fucking cake. That works when I don’t have anything else going on but it’s been a busy spring and my Saturday writing binges aren’t happening much. And so Red Clay Day rolls around I haven’t got squat.
Fortunately my editor is a cat and I can just tell her to “get bent, I’ll have something next week.” And I will. Until then, I give you my editor in her natural environment:
Until next week, cheers.
Fletch
Have you heard of tiny Melinda Mae,
Who ate a monstrous whale?
She thought she could,
She said she would,
So she started in right at the tail.
And everyone said, "You're much too small,"
But that didn't bother Melinda at all.
She took little bites and she chewed very slow,
Just like a good girl should...
...And in eighty-nine years she ate that whale
Because she said she would!
(Shel Silverstein)