The Painful Birth of the Written Word

In my Cube City trade, I spend far more time thinking about an idea than I do writing about it. I start with a blank slate -- and an even blanker stare at the computer screen. It's scary. It's how procrastination is born.

I've never given birth to a child, but I've seen the movies. I've read and heard the stories. I just know that writing for a living must certainly be similar to giving birth over and over.

• There's a lot of waiting.


• The mucous plug detaches. Right on.


• More waiting.


• Finally your water breaks.


• But no...there's more waiting.


• Contractions begin -- you feel encouraged because you know you're onto something.


• But no...there's more waiting.


• Contractions continue. Damn them. They're such a tease.


• You hate the person(s) responsible for putting you in this position. You curse the world.


• Finally it's time.


• You push. You push some more. You just keep pushing because it's time to get that idea out of your being.


• Out it comes! You give birth. You're sweaty. You're exhausted. You've created a beautiful thing.


• You'd do it all over again. You were born to do this.