My debut novel LITTLE GALE GUMBO is set on a fictitious island off the coast of this beautiful state and now I’m nearing publication of my second novel, THE MERMAID COLLECTOR, which is also set in Maine—this time, in a coastal town called Cradle Harbor.
So what does it mean to me to get away? Well, most days I don’t have the luxury of travelling to such a diverting landscape. For me, getting away often means getting away from my computer screen. And sometimes, that departure is a nearly impossible one.
Writing is a consuming endeavor, we all know that. And sometimes when it is going poorly, the best thing we can do is to get away from the work—even for just an hour or two—but that journey isn’t always welcome, and I suspect I’m not alone in this. If I’ve hit a wall, I find myself more determined than ever to try and push through it. And that wall is hard. And made of cement. And I might as well be pushing with a feather.
But still, I. Can. Not. Walk. Away.
What’s amazing is that when I do (Eventually, of course, I have to stop) and whatever problem I’m having (plot, character, dialog) is allowed to simmer, invariably I reach a solution. It is amazing what a short walk, a drive, even doing the dishes can do to stir the pot of ideas and untangle the knot.
So why do I resist getting away when I know it is most always the ONLY way to make progress?
I look to you all for insight (or at least, a bit of commiseration).
Friends, do you get away from your work with ease when you know you’ve hit a wall? Or does someone have to pry you away?