"Don't give up on me / 'Cause I'm just in a rut / I'm climbin' but the walls keep stacking up." -The Killers
I've been in a rut. A writing rut. And while the sound is alliterative, I assure you that there's nothing poetic about it. I received a particularly demoralizing rejection, and it sent me into a vocational crisis. Actually, it sent me into the upstairs bathroom where I locked myself in and sat on the floor Googling writing jobs at Disney for a solid half hour. The result is that I found some jobs, but my husband was less than enthusiastic about suddenly moving to Florida or California.
In the meantime, work has become extremely busy. So many papers to grade, books to read along with the students, extracurricular demands. So I allowed myself to be swept away from writing for a while. Swept away from this blog. Swept away from Reliance.
Yet my return was signaled by an unlikely source.
Let me be upfront: I really love country music. I love almost all kinds of music (straight up Screamo the only exception), but I listen to country mostly in the summer. On the last day of school, every year, I have a tradition. I roll down the windows as I drive home, and I blast "Barefoot Bluejean Night" by Jake Owen. But last week we had a very "summery" day here in South Carolina (and on Saturday it will be windy with a high in the low 60s...because South Carolina is a tease). And so, unprepared without a charged iPod and without Jake Owen on my phone, I turned to the local country station. And there it was.
Now I rooted for Carrie Underwood on American Idol; I loved me some Bo Bice, but I was cool with Carrie winning. However, I never really went all in on her country career. I was in a bit of an alternative rock renaissance at the time, and now I'm more of a Miranda Lambert girl.
But last week I was driving home from work, AC blasting, ready for my country moment (the AC can serve as a fantastic wind machine for car performances), when I heard "Dirty Laundry" by Carrie Underwood. And let me tell, you, that song didn't just pull me out of the rut. No, it yanked me out and set me up straight.
Sometimes when you're writing, you pour your main plot out on the page, and it's wonderful, and beautiful, and emotional, and then you realize that something is missing. There's been a climax, a resolution, but it isn't enough. Something else was going on the whole time, but you can't quite put your finger on it. And the characters aren't saying a word. So you think, and you feel, and you wander around the wilderness of your mind searching for a signal.
And then it comes to you like a spark, like a forest fire. Suddenly you see the tiny flame flare up into an inferno, take over the manuscript, flicker then rage, not destroying, but purifying as we're told fire can. And ever so quickly, you fan the flames.
And there it is. And no wonder the characters were afraid.
Grab some kindlin'. There's gonna be a blaze.
