Recently, I lost my zing. I'm not sure why or how, only that it left me for a couple of weeks. I don't know if it was because of personal life woes, writing woes, or a combination. I only know that I was forcing myself to write and in doing so, the writing came out flat without my usual verbal edge. And I am now on my third or fourth full rewrite of chapter nine. And apparently chapter nine is a crucial chapter because I have chapter ten done and a good portion of eleven..I just have to write that connective scene to get there and that's what I've been struggling with.
Tuesday morning I looked out the windows at work--okay, these are high windows, you have to look up and all you'll see are the roofs of buildings across the street, trees, and this weird sculpture that looks kind of like a clock on a stick without the numbers. Anyway the wind was blowing and the hand inside the sculpture was spinning like crazy and I thought, "What if the wind could blow back time?"
And then other questions followed. If it could blow back time, could it blow time forward as well? And how would these changes affect people? It was freight day and all day as I put out stock, I thought about this wind that could send time spiraling. About the people who lived in wind protected cities and how you had to really consider whether you would go out into the wind? What if you went back in time, made new decisions, did that guarantee that you'd be happier? And how would those changes affect those you left behind.
No. I'm not abandoning Bix for this crazy idea. But I did get my zing back and I'm loving it. For me, zing is that eternal, hopeful questioning of what if? So, tell me, what's your zing?