With apologies to my winter-sports loving family and friends, I am happy I haven’t had to deal with snow or snowballs this year–compared to the last two winters when snowstorms presented multiple headaches.
I’m thinking about another kind of snowball, based on my attempt to shake off winter ennui. First, to give credit where it’s due, I used to occasionally hear a financial advisor on the radio who presented the “snowball” theory of freeing oneself from debt. Starting with paying off the smallest debt, he then suggested progressing to the next largest, and on up the line. Providing a sense of accomplishment and slow, steady progress, his method was popular and, as far as I know, workable.
I discovered the same general idea works for kicking the procrastination that winter can induce; you know, the urge to wrap up in a warm throw, sip a mug of something hot, and read a great book. Of course, while I was doing this, I wasn’t writing or even (sorry) attending to this blog.
Then, I glanced at a literary newsletter and discovered a play contest. I’ve written nonfiction, novels, short stories and poems, but I’ve only made one attempt at a play, and that was years ago. Still, if I could pull it off, I might have a chance to see it produced in a western state I love.
I closed my book and sat down at the computer. The first thing I discovered is that formatting a play correctly requires not only learning new rules, but maintaining consistency in their application. There are programs one can purchase to assist the process, but I was experimenting and not ready to invest. After an hour or two of research, I found what seemed to be an acceptable, standard format.
Finally I entered what, to me, was a foreign landscape. I wrote; I edited; I switched entire scenes; I cursed; I enlisted the help of a friend to spot trouble areas. It took a couple of weeks, but I managed to produce a three-act play.
Inspired, I wrote a 10-minute play and sent it to a theatre that was calling for short plays. I doubt if either play has the proverbial snowball’s chance in hell of being accepted, but what I learned was worth the effort.
The first revelation: I have written dialogue; I have taught others how to write dialogue; I thought I knew what I was talking about. However, when I had to picture actors on stage, not only speaking my lines, but performing appropriate movements to accompany those lines, I had an entirely new perspective on effective dialogue in general.
The second revelation: After putting the book and blanket away, and becoming involved in my writing again, I woke up each day wanting to do it again–and again. That first day’s sense of progress was a strong motivator. Perhaps it’s a little like breaking a habit: if you can get through that first day, then the second day beckons, and it snowballs from there. Success builds on success and, regardless of what you write or how well it is received, you are writing, building your skills, and getting back into the zone.
How do you get your snowball rolling?