Since I was adopted, Mom has been trying to teach me to fetch. ‘Trying’ is the most important part of that sentence. I kind of DO know how to fetch, already. She throws the ball, I run to get it, and I bring it on the couch and bite it. Done – mission accomplished.
Mom says, “Bring it here!” and “Give it to me!” and “NO!! It’s not fetching if you don’t come back with it!” If she wanted it, why did she throw it in the first place?! Fetching. Ugh. We practice and practice, over and over, but it still confuses me.
Mom works on her stories over and over, too. First she writes the story, a little bit each day. That’s the easy part. Then she changes it by adding things in, taking things out, and switching things around. She makes it longer to explain stuff and then makes it shorter to fit the word count. She makes fun characters come to life and makes boring characters disappear. She makes people talk and then changes the talk to action. Over and over she opens the same story, and over and over she works on it (or stares at it) each day.
….Till her writing time is finished. Then, she says, “Done for now.” and “I’ll work on it again tomorrow.” and “Come on! Fetch it! Bring it here! Fetch!”
Over and over and over….
Comments on: "Over and Over" (2)
Dedication. Perseverance. Practice. Practice . Practice. It’s like breathing. Or eating. It’s what keeps you going. You’re not fetching if you don’t bring it back. You’re not a writer if you don’t write, write, write. Mom taught me that. I don’t fetch, therefore, I’m not a dog. I don’t write, therefore, I am not a writer. You’ll get it. I did.
You’re right, Gemma, no fetching, no dog. But you may be a writer – remember Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, and Chapter 4? That ain’t chopped-up liver, you know. Hmmm. I think I might like chopped-up liver…..
Love and liver,