This Is Writing

It’s the moment you see a story in your mind. It’s when your heart races as you finally create your first character. It’s the many cups of tea going cold on the worktop as you battle through another chapter. It’s the loads of washing sitting in the machine for days as you forget what day it is and also when you put it on in the first place. It’s the sleepless nights saying ‘I need to change that. And that. And that’ into the wee small hours as you try not to wake your children. It’s the sunrises you see that you wouldn’t normally do because you are awake early instead of snoozing the alarm. It’s the choices you make as a writer to let your imagination in.  It’s the feeling of satisfaction when the read-through doesn’t falter. It’s the “oh wow” from your soul mate as they abstain from adding changes because none are required. It’s the setting of an alarm so you don’t miss school pick up. It’s the feeling of dread on the day of submission competition deadline. It’s the flutter of your heart as you re-check the attachments on the e-mail..again and again. It’s the twentieth game of eye spy. It’s the alarm set to dark o’clock. It’s the forgetting to eat lunch. It’s changing  the colour of the words to navy blue so you can still print it off using the colour cartridge instead of the black one that has just ran out. It’s hating your title because it’s similar to another one out there. It’s the disagreeing with your thesaurus on a regular basis. It’s being easily distracted when editing. It’s trying to leave the internet alone during office hours. It’s the e-mail that always stays in the ‘draft’ inbox because you just don’t think it’s good enough to send yet. It’s printing the last draft so you can see how big the bundle of words are. It’s the contemplation of going back to your old job to have a little bit more money. It’s feeling guilty for putting the kids in after school care just so you can write. It’s the lack of conviction as another year passes without publication. It’s the uncountable cups of coffee you make for friends. It’s the internet searches. It’s the intuition of it all. It’s meeting important  literary faces at events and then spluttering at them because your mind has gone blank. It’s missing a deadline. It’s saying good luck to those in need of it. It’s meeting new friends. It’s life getting in the way. It’s consuming chocolate.  It’s taking yourself seriously as a writer. It’s remembering to brush your teeth and go to the loo. It’s never forgetting those that helped you get where you are today. It’s family. It’s the rephrasing of your author bio to make you sound less desperate. It’s the decision to write when you just want to eat chocolate and watch TV.  It’s the hours that you swear were only minutes. It’s the butterflies in your stomach as you complete another MS. It’s the falling asleep sitting up. It’s hearing good things about your work. It’s the champagne in the fridge for that rainy celebration day.   It’s being compared to writers who are just people but are more famous than you. It’s the spell check every three minutes. It’s the wiping of sweaty palms as you finish your cover letter. It’s the waiting. It’s the air that we breathe. It’s our life.

It’s the slow release of breath as you lift your finger to press send…

This is writing.