One of my favorite Einstein quotes explains the ratio of inspiration (1%) to perspiration (99%) in creating anything.
I teach my students that if you want the good stuff to happen you have to be there ready for it to happen. That means the hard work needs to be done of applying yourself to a task, be it writing or tinkering with the universe like Einstein (well, maybe we try to do that too!) and then when the inspiration hits as it will, you’re there for it! Conversely, there will be lovely days when the inspiration hits first and you just have to follow your muse and hang on for the ride. But then there will probably be lots of clean up to do and once more 99 percent of your time will be spent perspiring.
Nothing works like hard work. Most people don’t want to hear this. Some authors think it will all magically appear. Yes, of course, some of it will, but the art of writing is in the rewriting until you have crafted exactly what you want to communicate and that takes the sober light of day.
Okay, I’m sure there are a few geniuses out there that have never needed to change a word to make their writing have more clarity and structure. Like Mozart and his musical genius. But for us mere mortals, it will take work to make it the best it can be. Enjoy that part of the process because it does mean you don’t have to leave your beloved story characters just yet. You get to spend a few more precious weeks letting them shine to the best of their ability. Now, I like that!
Happy reading, Angelina J. Windsor 🙂
Sugar & Spice & Everything…Naughty
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My first novel is being published by Ellora’s Cave in a matter of weeks!
Seventh Son is the first novella of the Dragonstone Wolves series:
An ancient werewolf curse, a darkly handsome nobleman and a desperate woman collide in the haunted forests of ancient Albion. Some say it is destiny. Some say it is a catalyst brought about by the devil’s own. But all say divine intervention is necessary if history will claim the victory of the Dragonstone clan over the wild Northmen.
This series is definitely for adults only, please be advised!
Excerpt:
Millions of spiritual creatures walk the Earth,
Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep.
John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book IV
A sound. A shadow. The breath stilled in my lungs. I froze mid-stride, icy tentacles of fear twisted around my desperate heart. I waited with every fiber of my body alert to my surroundings. This close to my goal I could not, nay, would not, be denied. A board creaked. The certainty I was not alone slithered through my mind. Evil surely awaited in the rising mist of the gloaming. It crept silently in over the water and beclouded the bottom of the river below. I had to hurry. I willed my body to move and lurched to the dark wooden railing, grasping it with stiffened fingers. Looking down, I could see the mist rising thicker and settling on the cold rushing water. I shuddered. I fancied the swirling mist forming itself into the searching fingers of death. A macabre welcome surely awaited me with absolution for my sins, an end to the agony that my life had become. I felt no hesitation in my mission.
A creak. Someone was on the bridge with me. I panicked and looked back towards the muffled footfalls and barely discernible creaks that echoed loudly in my head. The mist felt a living entity as it pursued me over the wide wooden planks and obscured my view. Wait. The deep voice pierced my head a split second before I threw a leg up over the wooden railing and hoisted myself upwards. No time to waste. Just a couple more seconds and my pain would be over forever. The devil would not win my soul.
Strong arms pulled me off balance and I tumbled off the railing against a hard body. I screeched with anger and agony, fighting the interference tooth and nail with my clenched fists. Food and shelter cost too dearly. I wanted no part of any rescue.
“Let me go! I want to die!”
“Hush, no one wants to die,” a low throaty voice soothed.
His body radiated heat and calmed my tormented mind. I found I wanted to stay within the confines of his arms and be warmed. What had happened to my death wish? Was a warm man enough to turn me away from a choice that had seemed inevitable and well-chosen only moments ago? That I had promised myself this very night. I couldn’t go back. No one could make me. I would not, could not let that happen, but still I did not struggle. I let myself be embraced by the stranger while my mind raced.
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