Writing Pains and Labor Pains

Writing Pains and Labor Pains

            A bunch of writers on a Face Book site I belong to were chatting about what hard work writing can be at times and how  they will chop wood, take out the garbage or most any excuse to put off actually sitting down and pounding out their next article.  They got me thinking about this thing that some of us do; this writing thing and how we do it.

            I had two dreams career wise as a kid; to train dogs and to write.  I wish I had started writing sooner but learned early on that it wasn't about drinking coffee and smoking a pipe it was about extracting things from deep inside yourself and exposing them to the public.  It was about trying to describe in a man-made language the wonders of God’s creation. It’s hard for me this thing I love to do.

            With me it’s sort of like an old hound dog having puppies.  There is a gestation period after the seed of a story starts to form.  With dogs it’s sixty three days, with me it can be anything from days to years.  The Idea is always there growing inside me.  I feed it with the things I have experienced, the people I meet, the joys and sorrows of everyday life.  As with dogs genetics play a huge role.  My favorite picture of my dad is of him as a young man lying on the grass surrounded by a litter of bird dog puppies.  My second favorite is of him standing high in the mountains with gun in hand looking down on the valley below.  As an old time bird dog man said to me about genetics “blood will always out.” My Grandfather on my mom’s side was a preacher who died in his early forties of a burst appendix.  My Dad was a country preacher who practiced what he preached.  So it is only natural that my writings reflect these genes.

            When it comes to actually writing a story I’m sort of like that old hound dog that crawls up under the porch to give birth.  It’s painful at times and there’s a lot of pushing and groaning.  I just can’t find a place that’s comfortable and I have to move around every once in a while.  I do everything short of digging a hole in the soft dirt.  But then the birthing is over and I’m left with the cleanup to make sure this puppy is ready to meet the public. Once again I’m nervous like that tired old hound as she presents these things she’s given birth to for public scrutiny.

            We recognize good writing when we see it and I make no claim here but good writing touches us.  Good writing stirs emotion and touches memories.  It encourages or even inspires us.  It is often an escape to a place of solace.  But no matter how good it is it always falls short of the authors goals.  And as good as it may be it doesn’t have puppy breath.