This is the Marjerie Glacier, located in Glacier Bay National Park, Alaska. The face is about 250′ high (over 75m), and is constantly crumbling away as the river of ice pushes down from the ice field above. It’s breathtaking.
And intimidating. Like writing can be.
I’ve been working on the sequel to my first book, and some days, it feels like the screen in front of me is this advancing wall – and all I have is an ice pick. I know the story I want to write, but knowing it and getting it down are two different things. And the wall pushes toward me with other distractions. Email, Twitter, Facebook, and my blog all have legitimate claims on my time, but they also try and hijack it all. As soon as I chip away one, another pushes toward me with more.
It sounds depressing, but on the other hand, I have help. My critique partner may use a whip, rather than a jack hammer, but having someone to force me to focus on writing, and specific issues in my story is invaluable. Today I’m meeting up with another writer for a writing blitz – a no-talking, no-texting, no-internet get together to just write. Oh, did I mention no kids?
So I continue to chip away. And if things go well today, the only ice I’ll face will be in a margarita!