Ebb!

Now there's a word you never hear shouted. From the Middle English ebbe, and the German ebbe, and the Old Frisian ebba (those crazy Frisians!). But that's probably because it's not a very shouty word, is it? It's all about recession and weakening. And even if you're a crazy king trying to command the tides, it's unlikely that you'll have your throne plopped down in the sand just so you can yell, "Ebb!" It'd be all I command you waves to recede and Puny tide flee from my mighty awesomeness and so on.

Anyway, after some wacky states of high productivity I'm in a small period of creative ebb, here, which is just fine and--dare I say--dandy. I think some folks get writer's block because when they have a pause, a creative inhalation, they panic. Not me. I know exactly what needs to happen: one brand new chapter and the revision of three existing chapters, after which I will be sixteen chapters in to my twenty-six chapter project. And that, dear readers, is pretty fucking far along. So when I slow down from Going Like Gangbusters (to Going Like Gangpesterers) I fear not, for I have an outline and an ending and just the right amount of confidence.

Confidence, that is, in my ability to finish the work, polish it, and send it out into the world to make a name for itself, because that's really the only sort of confidence that I have any practical use for. Having confidence that the thing will actually get published--while not misplaced--is more of a distraction than anything else. Right now it's all about putting one word after the other, polishing up their arrangement, and making sure they're the right ones. (That last one is the most important: this book has to have all the right words in it. Can't leave any out at all. People can tell.)

No, right now it's all first draft mode. Get it done, ready for the buffing up and the tweaking and the putting on of eyebrows. When a new chapter sits in obstinate silence and refuses to play nice--as is happening now--I just step back and stare it down, because I know who will win. I know what paragraphs to poke with sticks and what moments to call forth into being, and I know that one night I'll sit down before my creaking clanking laptop and swoosh! out it will all come, the words marching in well-dressed columns with properly fancy hats.

That attitude is hard-won. I would tell you how to cultivate it, but it's already been perfectly codified by someone much more clever than I am, in two succinct words: Don't Panic. The really critical bit about that is realizing that there's actually no reason to panic at all, which makes it ever so much easier to avoid doing so.