Of slow brains and juggling acts

These past few weeks (nay, months) I’ve been heads down over my WIP because I’ve finally worked through that Plot Block that’s been plaguing me. Hooray!

It’s been a very quiet, almost unceremonious, word-by-painstaking-word breakthrough. There was no flash of epiphany, no Great Insight or Sudden Awakening. There was a lot of butt-sitting, scribbling in and scribbling out, moody spaced-out silences and a ton of re-writing. Not to get it right; just to get through it. I figure if I write crap now, I can edit the crap out of it later.

I sometimes think of my writing progress as having been cleaved in two: pre-motherhood and post-motherhood. My brain is a little slower nowadays and it takes longer to find the right words (ok, I’m not getting younger either). In documenting the trivial self-discoveries, I feel like I’m re-learning how to write as a mother, as well as a wife, as a daughter and sister, a colleague etc. All these aspects of myself that must be juggled, as any writer must.

I think the loss of ease with which I used to write is not something to be mourned, but rather something to be redrafted and edited, over and over as situations change. That it should be embraced as a personal triumph.

So I’m going to revel in the mistakes and the story because I’m still writing. And that counts.