Writers write, talkers talk, bleeders bleed

On the one hand, there's this post by Gareth Powell, who draws a distinction between people who talk about writing, and who dream of being a writer, but who don't actually write anything. Writers write all the time; talkers just talk all the time.

On the other hand, there's this post from Emma Newman, who talks about the times of recharging necessary after periods of exceptionally high-volume outlays of energy. Output -- refractory period -- output -- refractory period -- output.

I've been burning the candle at both ends for months and months, dealing with lots of things that aren't related to writing. There are no breaks from it; as one thing winds down, another thing winds up to take its place. I'm expecting (hoping?) that things will settle down in a couple of months and writing can resume its place in a more balanced life. Another post tells me that this is irrelevant wimp talk. If I were serious about being a writer, I'd be writing anyway, chewing on the broken glass and stabbing myself with freshly sharpened pencils, forcing the blood to flow and ignoring the pain like a REAL man.

Er, a real writer.

I wonder sometimes if there is a gender-based perspective on the dichotomy of "Be self-aware and use self-care. It's a marathon, not a sprint." vs. "You're the one who wanted to be a writer! Shut up and take the pain!" If so, then I have to conclude that I'm actually a woman, which means I can stop shaving.



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Landless by Tony Noland. If you like the blog, try one of the books.