Fire Star Press: Waxing poetic by Michael E. Gonzales

Monday, May 6, 2019

Waxing poetic by Michael E. Gonzales

Allow me to “wax poetic.”

Which of course means to use flowery or expressive language to describe a relatively mundane topic, or use heightened, formal language to communicate a simple thought.

I’m in the middle of writing a story that, when the idea first popped into my head, sounded great!

The outline looked good as well. But as I began to tell the story and to ensure my twists twisted and plotholes weren’t bottomless that “thing” happened; I call it … mission drift.

Somewhere between my brain and my fingertips the story branched off.

The blank page became a swirling haze as the story loomed up out of the abyss and was illuminated by the light of foreboding imagination. Visible before me was a labyrinth of paths so vast as to befuddle the mind of the most indefatigable sage.

Within the mists the events of the outline conflicted with the ever-active imagination. In that instant, as if from a flash of lightning,

was shown the dark tunnel down which the story was hurtling toward a future of pain, misery, confusion, and the slow tedious process of rewriting.

This cloudy road quickly forked, then forked again, and yet again — for neither imagination nor storyline now follow a straight line.

There is always hope for any manuscript.

But hope, in perpetuum, is opposed by evil, and so it is in the mind of this writer. The ruby flames and blood red demons of ubiquitous malevolence threatened even now to consign the manuscript to the dark,

irretrievable depths of the rubbish bin.

The time spent in research, the hours pounding at the keys till my fingertips bleed, the gallons of coffee and the sleepless nights, all for naught.

By the glow of my monitor I gaze out into a darkened room, the only sound the pitiless ticking of the clock. I am loathed to surrender to the demons, so I turn to the better angels of my mind and plead for help.

The answer I knew before I asked. It came to the forefront of my mind as a hard and painful slap with a mailed fist…

“Work harder, ya fool, and quit whining!”

I am reminded of the famous quote: