Is it fun?

It’s canning season. In the last few days I’ve had a few all day/late night sessions, up to my armpits in mess and chaos.

My husband came by, just a few minutes ago, and asked if I was having fun. He wanted me to know that it was okay if I decided, half-way through whatever I was processing, that I was finished. I could just quit there and call it good if I wasn’t having fun.

I responded, “It’s the middle of the book.”

Then, seeing him wondering if I was still sane after all this canning, I went on to explain that writing the middle of a story is always a slog. There’s the fun initial idea and enthusiasm, like shaking apples off the neighbour’s tree with a bunch of kids. And being finished and seeing what you accomplished, like a table FULL of canned applesauce, feels absolutely amazing. But no, the middle part—the sticky, chaotic, sanity questioning slog—is not fun.

But I do it anyway.

I think this is a good mantra for writing. Yes, it’s hard. Yes, it’s messy. Yes, things bubble over and burn and you have to re-write and rip out. Sometimes you have to take a moment because you have no idea what you’re doing: that is simply part of the process. It isn’t always fun, but that’s okay. The fact that I get to create something meaningful, that I get to practice a skill that will always have room for improvement, and that I get rewarded by discovering new worlds, peoples, times and troubles. I think that is pretty dang cool.

Keep slogging, everyone. As long as you keep working, the middle doesn’t last forever.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to switch up my jars.