The Nine Worlds of Writers (and how to make them perfect adjacent)
I’ve been told for six months that “its gonna get busier” at work, a cringe-worthy phrase in the light of my current 45-hour work week and 45-minute one-way commute, coupled with living with a steadily declining dementia sufferer. So when my editor told me she needed my blog series by the 29th of June, I could literally feel my frontal lobe slamming into my skull. I’m already on empty. Staving off an inner toddler tantrum, I denied my anxiety, allowing only the tiniest “In a perfect world I’d have…” moment. Truth is, there are lots of “worlds” out there, none of which are perfect. It’s all in how we as writers spin them. So over the next nine weeks, I’m going to spin a few of which I am familiar:
Welcome to the nine worlds of writers!
Is it getting hot in here? The land of fire.
When I was a little girl, pretending that the floor was lava and jumping from my bed to the dresser was great fun. Now that I’m older, living in a world where everything is on fire is wearisome. The constant rain of choking soot and ash wreaks havoc on the gentle green sprouting ideas. The incessant heat and flame of life burns away all my creativity and leaves me desert dry.
When writers live in a world where everything is on fire or ready to ignite, the burn can definitely char our souls. So what do we do? Hunker down and wait for the next coronal mass ejection to crisp the world, or fight back? Well, writers are fighters, so designing an implantation of your own flamethrower shouldn’t be that difficult.
If you’re not that specifically engineered, keep it simple. Light a match and time a toss. If the world is on fire, obviously fuel is not a problem. So take a strike at it and incandesce. Light up something. Channel your inner pyromaniac and be the burn. Take that one idea and fan it until you have a veritable firestorm.
The ground may be lava and the sky full of ash, but you are a diamond born in pressure and heat and flame.
Like a char on a steak, sometimes something served up extra crispy and hot out of the oven is perfectly tasty. So find your moment and take a bite before it cools. And if all else fails and the furniture is too far apart to save you from the lava, expand your parameters of the creative game. One jump and I could land on mom’s blue rug and slide all the way into the lava free kitchen zone.
World on fire? Get ignited. Add some sizzle and create something tasty. I can assure you that after thirty odd years in the desert and prior to that a sojourn in the deep south, heat is temporary. You’ll put the heat of the day or the season behind you and things will cool off again.
I prefer a fire break and fire prevention to starting a firestorm of my own, but since I am not the only one with free will on the planet, often the burn comes from someone else’s match, carelessly tossed into dry tinder. Just remember, if you’re a writer, you’re a fighter too. Get your gear and get going.