Yup. That^
I
have friends who talked about writing. Not about “being a writer” but about the
specific stories they were going to write.
They
talked and elaborated. They considered some of the details they’d include. They
deliberated about what point of view to use, where to set it, and how to end.
Once,
I got a breathless call because my friend with a story to tell just had an
epiphany regarding the story. It wouldn’t be a straight-out story, but a fable,
using animals. This wasn’t for children, but an allegory à la Orwell’s Animal
House.
“Great,”
I said. “Now start writing.”
Another
friend said her book required the permission of someone mentioned in it, though
that someone was but a minor character that could be omitted if permission wasn’t
granted.
“Great,”
I said. “Now start writing.”
A
third friend let me know he was bogged down with research on some of his story’s
elements. It could take weeks or months to complete his self-assigned reading.
“Great,”
I said. “When will you start writing?”
To
the best of my knowledge, none have so much as written the first sentence.
I
never talk about my stories until after I completed the second draft. Talking
(and talking, and more talking) releases the creative gasses that float the
writing balloon. Then, the impetus to sit and write evaporates and becomes the
sad spectacle of a deflated balloon lying on its side, abandoned where no one,
not even the would-be writer, would ever see it.
