When I was in labour with my son, he didn’t want to come out. He was way too warm and cozy, all tucked inside me. I should have known then what a stubborn kid he was going to be. Anyhoo, I pushed and pushed, and finally they brought out the baby-vac…it sucks onto the baby’s head and gives the doctor something to grab onto so he can pull when a contraction hits. When my son grudgingly came into this world, not only was his head cone-shaped from his “travels”, but he had a cone on top of his cone from the baby-vac (it’s not the proper name, but it paints the right mental picture for my purposes). He just loves it when I pull those baby pics out for viewing.
For the past month I have felt very much like I did twelve and a half years ago, trying so hard to push something out of me that just wouldn’t budge. My chapter twelve (hmm…just noticed the number coincidence there) has been painful, frustrating, and has made me wish they had a mental-vac that could latch onto that elusive idea that I needed to get from one point in the story to another. I tried everything. I really did. I sat looking at my laptop screen for what seemed to be hours, willing the words to flow, but that usually ended with me surfing for awesome tees for my once cone-headed son. Then I tried reading what I had already written in one sitting hoping that the next chapter would be born from what had already been written. Do you know how long it takes to read eleven chapters? It’s almost like reading a bloody book! I also started a few paragraphs from what I hope to be my next story. That gave me visions of me sitting in my chair, like the proverbial cat-lady, with half-finished stories flopped all around me like overfed cats.
Then last week, the clouds parted, trumpets blared, and angels sang. Ok, maybe not, but I was in the middle of a really good shower. You know the kind when the water is just the right temperature and you don’t have to rush anywhere. You just sort of get in that lather, rinse, repeat zone where your mind goes to that other place. Well, in my case, I went to the place where my chapter twelve was hiding. I jumped out of the shower, having thoroughly rinsed thankfully, and never even made it to my beloved Starbuck’s. I didn’t want to waste anytime hunting down a vacant table and standing in line for a coffee. I just hopped on the couch with a couple of cozy cats (yeah I’m going to be that cat lady eventually) and started typing. Chapter twelve still has a few paragraphs to go, but at least I know what I’ll be writing.
I so feel like I have given birth to a nine and a half pound bouncing baby boy…I mean chapter. It truly is a joyous time in the Nunn household. And the best part? No dirty diapers. (Just dirty laundry cause momma’s too busy writing).