Fight's on!

Sometimes the need to create something wafts over me like the scent of mocha chip muffins puffing into calorie bombs as I stroll past a bakery. I don't even know I'm going to write something until I realize the smell of a new poem or a new story has led me straight to the counter and I'm ordering up dozens of words.

Other times, I'm more like Elmer Fudd with a gun. "I'm going get me some wabbit!" Last night, I had my double-barreled word gun out and I stayed up past midnight, blasting words onto the page. Don't worry, the new story's not violent; the need to create was.

You know the whole fight or flight instinct? Mine is heavy on the fight. I didn't always know this. In college, I took a fencing class, and learned that when faced with a pointy blade which, while not piercing, does leave bruises on your chest, I tend to react by: attack! attack! re-attack! (The instructor narrated the battle to point out moves and strategies to the watching class.) I won the girls' side of the mock tournament and faced the top boy. I nearly killed him. I don't think my brothers would be surprised.

Me, though, I'm amazed that I'm posting this. I'm known to most as a very mellow person. I love getting along. I hate conflict. I see other points of view with such ease that I could be a United Nations calendar girl. But I do not like myself when I get weepy or mopey when things don't go my way. So I challenge myself to a fight. Just me and some words. We go several rounds. The words usually win. But I feel better. And the best part? At the end, my opponent--my freshly created manuscript---hauls me off the floor, looks me in the eye and hands me back my self-respect.

P.S. It's a draft of a picture book. It needs work. It may never sell. But I sure had fun dueling with it. En guard, Monsieur Manuscript!