Hello, darklings!
A few nights ago, I ended up spending an hour researching 1850’s firearms for my short story. During, I learned a lot about different loading methods, especially as guns transitioned from muzzle-loaded to breechloaded. Bonus, I learned where the term “riding shotgun” came from. Coach wagons habitually kept a shotgun wielder seated next to the driver to defend against bandits. Thus… riding shotgun.
I also learned cowboys during most of 18th century didn’t wear what we think of today as cowboy hats. They wore bowlers, flat caps, sombreros, etc. The Stetson and 10-gallon hat didn’t truly become popular until the 19th century. I love learning these things. Writing gives me a perfect excuse to learn random facts.
Writing wise, this week has been another tough one for me. I’m still shaking off vestiges of an ear infection. I’ve been working overtime. Also, my depression meds, more often a boon, are a two-edged sword during heat waves, as one of the common side effects is diminished heat tolerance. I’ve been doing a decent job of staving off the frustration and self-loathing that comes with not being able to write as I rest my headspace and body. I’ve been poorly practiced with this before, but I’m working on it.
I attended a panel at Tremendicon 2023 about pushing past stumbling blocks in writing. Because of some of the questions posed from the audience, the panel spent time focused on giving yourself adequate rest. One should not feel guilty for enjoying other things and not spending every spare moment writing. It’s impractical, unhealthy, and the writing will stop, one way or another. You also have to give yourself time to absorb other creative works and feed your muse. One of the most frequent words of advice I see given by authors is to walk, as it gives you a space to let your head be and your imagination to percolate.
I do like walking. The heat simply makes it difficult. The latest heatwave is coming to an end, so I’m more hopeful for this coming week. I also acknowledge that it is a luxury. My two fellow writers can’t simply walk when they want to as I can. One is raising two young boys and the other a school-aged child on top of physical inhibitions that make walking difficult and, sometimes, more harmful than good. I'm fortunate, and I don't forget that.
We often look back and see how much we took the free time of youth for granted. But on the other hand, we’ve the rest of our lives, and do we really want to come to the end of it without sharing the stories struggling in our heads?
No. Tough weeks, schedules, bad headspaces, illnesses, injuries, and family corralling may slow us down, but stubbornness we have in spades.
Write hard, corvids.
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