In Dreams 

The creative process. The writer’s methodology. Inspiration versus perspiration. Whatever words you want to use. But as a writer you will know that there are two distinct facets to your writing life. 

Loosely termed, they are the creative and the craft. I’m not saying anything that any writer doesn’t already know, but having been entrenched in the creative for a (far too) long time, constructing a novel in snatched hours around a demanding work life, I have finally put the creative ‘to bed’ as it were. The wheels are rolling on a hard edit, and I’m enjoying the comparative relief of crafting those words and honing that plot. 

But, but, but… then the process sends you a wickedly curved ball.  

It’s taken me a few weeks to articulate the feeling, but for sure it’s a kind of grief. You have been immersed in your characters’ world for… what, several years? Particularly if you have a close-up first-person narrative like mine, so you’ve been in your character’s head all that time. I have literally used that absorption like a sleeping drug, taking myself there when all else is done, every single night. As well as those moments of reflection and projection on what’s happening to him, that pepper my day. Every day.  

Then suddenly the story is told. You’ve finished. You’ve written the end several times. You’ve even added an extra end on to the end. But really, the story is complete. So, I thought well that’s ok, it’ll take a while for my mind to pull out of this, I can still be there, go over a few things. Every day. But no, something in the mind just knows. It’s done. No, you can’t. Get over it. 

Whew. It’s been tough to be honest. So, I’m cracking on with the edit, and then another joyful attribute of the writer’s lot kicks in big time. Yep, you know where I’m going with this… 

The sheer terror of a dry well.  

What if the inspiration for new creative never bubbles up again? Don’t think about it. Craft, hone, focus. Don’t know where to go when you’re trying to get to sleep? Get used to it.  

But I should understand by now, as a lifelong writer, that the writing process is pure magic. Or should I say that the creative mind is incredible. That it will spit you out ideas in a dream or three, that send you fumbling for your notebook before dawn, as if some re-boot fairy had oiled the cogs and got them a-whirring. 

For this I am immensely grateful, but also it reminds me that there is a third facet. Let’s call it ‘the mulching’. So now while I focus on the edit, these seeds of ideas will nourish themselves in some warm, dark corner of the brain and eventually when it’s time, I can cultivate them into healthy little shoots, and off we go again. 

Trust the process!