Reading my old LiveJournal entries (I do that, periodically, to revisit places and emotions) and I can across this entry from 2007, which deserves to be pulled out and set fresh:
“Doesn’t matter who you are, or what you’re trying to get done: Ass in Chair is still a valid and effective means to the end (*pun apology*). Maybe that’s why it’s so difficult? Because if you don’t open the file, if you don’t sit down and do it, you still have possibility. Once the pen is uncapped, or the cursor blinks, you’ve narrowed your options down to two: write, or don’t.”
and then, from comments, I said:
“Sometimes (starting to write is) the hardest thing you can do. And then you do it, and you look back and think “okay, yes. I can do that.”Â Â And then you’re reluctant all over again on the morning. Because, you know? It’s scary, this storytelling thing.”
Five years down the road, and this is still true.Â I suspect it will always be true. Based on conversations with other folk in the war-room, it seems to be a mostly-universal. Â We forget, sometimes; we get caught up in the flood of life or distractions or Too Much and wonder how we ever managed, how we will ever manage again. Doubt and hesitation and the desire to move forward matched with the fear of not having the tools to make that move… it all settles into the base of your spine and sends cold tendrils into your heart.
The only thing that gets us past all that is Opening. The. File.
AiC.Â FoK.Â Tell the goddamned story.Â Then do it again.
And again and again and again.Â And it never gets easier, but you recognize the landmarks, and know when to turn, and that’s almost like getting easier.
Which leads into my “my life is nothing like that of an actor’s, except where it totally is” essay.Â Which I should finish writing so I can actually post it…