"Friday morning. Meredith frowned and pulled at the coverlet, stitched by the sisters down the river. She felt...how did one feel after such a horrid and wondrous week?"
I wrote that opening to a chapter about two weeks ago. Then somebody called me away and now every time I read the damn sentence I realize I have no freakin' clue what Meredith is feeling. Crap. Writer's block.
It isn't so much that I don't know how poor Meredith is feeling--she's happy, afraid, sad, thrilled, a little in love, ticked off at her mother...you know, teenage angst in royal princess form. What is really preventing my fingers from clicking out another chapter is the wrapping, the parties, shopping, cats who must be fed, car that's rattling a bit more than it should...I feel a bit like Meredith, sort of out of place and not quite in sync with the holidays.
Which if I'm planning Meredith's royal ball, you'd think the writer in me would want to deck the halls, pick out the dresses and straighten a few cravats here and there. This would be a fine chance for the author channeling their life in their work. Fortunately, my muse understands I'm "not in the mood" and is reminding me that if I don't feel like dancing, I probably shouldn't be trying to make my little princess do a jig, either.
That's not to say that I can't write a sad scene without being depressed, but there is something to be said about letting the joy in your life slip through your fingers into your tales. Does that make writing a symbiotic relationship? I suppose there might be something to that thought. As to which direction the symbiosis runs is another question. Do I draw my happiness from my characters or is it the other way around?
So, is it Meredith causing my holiday blues? I doubt that. However, in the natural course of the tale I am creating she has reached a moment of decision where understanding why she is feeling so lost is key to her further growth. At this moment, I seem to be lacking the motivation to move her beyond this life's moment.
For everything there is a season...and so it seems this season is not meant to discern the difficulties of a teenage princess. Perhaps instead it is a season for me to find the energy and determination to untangle Meredith's feelings before I put them to paper.
So, this week I will spend a little time wrapping, baking, scurrying and dispensing hugs--for there's magic in this season of giving. When I spend a little time talking to those I hold dear in my life, I'll find the clues needed for Meredith to discover her happy ever after. Lucky girl.
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Enjoy Your Holidays!