Dreamer and Realist

It is February and often times it is seen as a month where love blossoms and relationships grow and flourish. I have to say that February has been ridiculously cold and snowy and the only relationships that have strengthened are the ones with my horses. I am a single person and for the most part I’m OK with that. It means that I don’t have to worry about what he wants to do or what he is dreaming about. It means that I can make bad decisions and I don’t have to answer to anyone.

However, it gets a bit lonely when you’re down in the dumps and you don’t know which way to go. You get bogged down by the simple things- like that mountain of laundry that never goes away or those bills that just never get paid or the fact that you spend most of your time playing games like candy crush. Sure, I don’t have money to eat out or go do fun things like vacations and the like; but even if I had the money I wouldn’t go do those things; because being single means you don’t have someone to drag out on date nights nor do you have someone to plan your life with. It’s those things that make me wonder why I stay single.

The truth of it is that I don’t want a meaningless “fling” and I have a hard time talking to guys. I mean I can joke around with my brother, but I know him. Other guys, well, they are weird and I just don’t have the easiest of times opening up to people. Well, that is my obligatory post of romance.

Now the meat of the post:

I am a dreamer. I dream and dream and dream. I write too. However, I am very good at not writing about meaningful things. I have a tendency to start stories and then stop writing them. I get about a third of the way through, realize it is garbage and I stop. Except, I can’t stop. I have to keep trying.

Do you know that I have been focusing a ton on grammar skills and on making sure I am writing in a coherent manner. The best way to describe it is that I am having growing pains as a writer. I am a caterpillar entering into my cocoon and when I emerge I will be a novelist. A novelist that writes beautiful and witty words and creates characters of exceptional interest. I will be one of the greats. My books will be studied long after I am dead.

What gets in the way is the realist part of me. The one that says “No, No, you can’t do that! You have to stick by the rules. Here, we need to cut your wings again.” Oh, and that sentence just blossomed into a storyline; into a snippet of a character that may become something more than a wisp of story.

That is why writing is so important. As a writer I don’t know what will trigger my creative juices or if they will be triggered. I don’t know what will elicit hours of feverish thought while I plug away on my computer only to realize I’ve spent the whole day lost within the confines of my mind. Some days, I think that reality isn’t real and that only my thoughts have substance. On those days I am not myself. I am a facsimile.  As a novelist I will be able to balance the worlds within my mind with the world outside my mind. My locus of control won’t spin and swirl like the teacups at a carnival; rather it will be a soothing boat ride on a calm lake.

The question is- will the dreamer overcome the realist.

(Maybe you should keep an eye out for Duchess of Dark Mercies to find out!)

Oh, and write like you have a book contract. Write like your agent is calling you every five seconds because your manuscript is due and write like you have a gun pointed to your head. Whatever you need to push you to write; imagine that it is there just out of reach and you need to write to obtain it.



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