By DENISE SEYFER
There’s a euphoria that comes from finishing a completed first draft, knowing all the while how many more drafts will be revised off that original. This is the rush that makes me write.
I have found a similar kind of rush doing other things like preparing myself for skydiving at 13,000 feet. Notice how I said preparing, not actually doing. The morning is spent practicing the drop. I hang onto the bar which connects to the wing of the plane. I tip my head back, close my eyes and let go. As I freefall, I count “one one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand, four one-thousand.” Putting these new-founded skills into action never happened thankfully to some dense clouds which floated into our drop zone.
As I lay-out pages for the next printing of our university’s newspaper, the similar surge of excitement flows through me. My adrenaline kicks into high-gear. I could stay up for 24 straight hours and still not be tired, carried by the impulses of the moment. My mind and my mouth spieling through many thoughts and ideas.
Seeing my name in the byline is all I need; a completed work to be proud of; having something to show for my efforts that others can read, learn from and appreciate, thrills me. When the freshly printed newspaper sits on the table waiting to be delivered and the ink still smudges when touched, I can’t stop my hands from snatching a paper and opening up to my story.
I try to restrain my joy, somewhat. Though what I really want to do is jump up and down like my boys on Christmas waving the newspaper in the air.
However, for me, writing stories fiction or non-fiction, short or long, is something I must do or I just won’t be happy, even though I sometimes dread getting started. My heart sags from disappointment at my lack of motivation and progress. But once I sit in the chair and start, my disposition changes. I am able to be lived with.
Now when I say writing, what do I mean? What kind of writing do I like best?
Writing shorter stories engrosses me. Where the sand seeps down into the hour glass and before I know it, I have 800 words or more on the page.
Not that writing chapters can’t be or isn’t as exciting, it is and it can be, however, the pay-off just takes longer. I don’t feel the rush until I’m sometimes 20 to 40 pages into the book. The exhilaration happens where scenes show themselves clearly and when characters speak as though they are human and standing right before me.
It’s when my fingers punch at the keys in a robotic motion. I can’t hear the clatter of my boys playing or fighting. I only hear the click of the keys and the motor of the fan spinning in my room or the chirp of the crickets rubbing their legs together in the long green grass outside my window.
When I finish a blog post and upload a photo, I get that same excitement. I watch and wait for others’ responses or likes.
The only feeling I haven’t had, the one for which I am still waiting, is the charge one gets when their first published book is delivered to their door. I really can’t wait for that to happen. And it will happen someday. I am sure of it. It’s why I keep writing. Just for the rush.
Tell me what you think. Do you feel the rush when you finish writing?