There is no greater feeling than pulling back on the stick, pointing your nose toward the heavens, and soaring to amazing heights from which you can see the entire world. Even the giant, invisible hand pushing you back into your seat is not a deterrent, but an indication that you are resisting the bounds of what it means to be a mortal!
Hey, what’s that sound? Everybody look what’s goin down. Jefferson Airplane knew what it was about, but that isn’t the plane I’m talking about. Nor do I speak of a literal aircraft, but the metaphorical one we authors fly to new worlds.
As exciting as it is to pilot such a craft, there comes the inevitable stall. I’m in one now. I have two books I want to write (#amwriting) and several stories rolling about in my mind for my serial fiction blog, and yet I am frequently at a loss for words (#uselesslystaringatthedamncomputerscreen. Probably not going to catch on what with the character limit and all.)
That’s the stall. Our mental engine begins to sputter. Our speed drops too low to create enough wind over our wings to remain aloft, we nose over, and begin our downward spiral like a wounded duck. Fighting to maintain control, we pull back on the stick, desperate to get our nose up. For me, that’s usually taking a couple of days off and going hiking with my mutts. It works! Physical activity has restarted my engine. I man the controls and give her everything she’s got! Words flow once more, plots come together, and the landscape I have created flows beneath me, its myriad-colored tapestry laying out my story in rich detail like a Navajo rug.
We run the risk of death with every flight, but that does not deter us from taking to the skies. It is where we belong. It is the only place we truly feel alive. Creation is our calling. Entertaining is our desire and greatest joy. Read us, review us, and we will all soar together.