“Too much fear stops the flow.”
Blood-letting. It happens, at The Blood Center and in writing — both for good cause. And for me, it’s happening simultaneously. My appointment to give blood looms on the horizon, and I have a short story due to a group of writing friends this week. Both events put the fear in me, so I figured this was a good a time as any to re-publish an old post.
Give it up.
This weekend, I gave blood. This wasn’t my first time, but let me say that (in my case anyway) it never gets easier.
I know the routine: the check-in, the donor questionnaire, the finger stick. I know exactly what to expect, which is the whole reason I break out into a sweat and forget how to breathe the second the phlebotomist cracks the cover on the needle. And, that sitcom rerun playing on the television across the room does nothing to distract me from the snaking tube sticking out of my arm for a solid ten minutes — or more, depending on whether or not my vein cooperates.
I am mess from the minute I walk into the Blood Center to the second I hear the beep from the machine that announces my pint-size bag is full up.
It’s the anticipation of discomfort that gets to me, and the worry that I might not make my quota. What if I didn’t drink enough water? What if something goes wrong and she has to re-insert the needle? What if I pass out and never make it to the sugar-filled treats at the end of Donor’s Row?
Oddly enough (or maybe not so much), a recent sit down with my work in progress felt a lot like this blood-letting. The same anxiety crept up on me seconds before I opened the file. I started to sweat as I scrolled down to my page mark. And, the initial string of words I typed out cut across the page and sounded choppy and slow. Then, all of the “what if’s” flooded my mind.
What if this scene doesn’t come together?
What if the story falls apart, right here, right now?
What if…I.Never. Finish.
I can’t avoid that anxiety, really. It’s genetic, and it’s part of my writing process. In many ways, dealing with it helps move me forward. I could give in to those fears, but that would mean I quit, and I’ve come too far to quit.
So, just like I squeezed that little stress ball and survived my stint at the Blood Center, I’ll write through my fears as best I can on a given day. Each word that falls onto the page fills that page, eventually, and some of those words will gel into a decent story. I’ll remember what the phlebotomist told me, in between her constant chatter that she hoped would settle my nerves: the more you relax, the better your blood flows, and – before you know it – you’re at the end!
There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed. ~Ernest Hemingway
* photo credit: rvoegtli on Flickr.com
Let’s let the blood flow together, Christi. I feel the exact same way. Here’s the thing, I am deathly afraid of needles.
The needles, yes. I cringe just thinking about it….
I may not share your fear of needles, but I certainly share your other fear. The what-ifs drift in like gray clouds … I ignore them … they gather and get more fierce and still I try to look out beyond them to the tiny patch of blue on the horizon. Then the sky turns black and mean, the thunder claps and lightening sparks and I stop … take a deep breath and remember … I love rain storms. Let the fear gather above me, it is no match for my love of adventure. Go to your blood-letting and like the man said … you will bleed on the page and reach out to someone who says … “That was a great story.”
Write on 🙂
“I love rain storms.” That’s a great line to remember when I feel in the thick of “it.” Thanks Florence.
Terrific analogy, Christi. And that quote of Hemingway’s is spot on.
Yep, I just love that quote! xoxo
I was anxious just reading about your experience. (is it hot in here?) Witty, and I like the comparison… minus that needle picture. And you WILL finish. And when you do, I’ll be here waiting to read it.
Isn’t that photo too much? I mean, really — too much.
By the way, I made it to the end of a very long short story draft last night, and I have to say, it felt good. Had it not been midnight, I would have eaten more than my fair share of chocolate to celebrate.
The phlebotomist’s words say it all! I think I’ll put that phrase right next to the Hemingway quote — it’s one of my favorites. I agree, great analogy.
Relax. I think that’s part of the energy behind doing something like NaNoWriMo, too. It’s all about having fun, letting loose, and when writers focus on that energy, the words follow.
I think so too. During NaNoWriMo 2009, I wrote the first 60% or so of novel I’m publishing at the end of this month. It was amazing to see how a story could develop when I pushed to get a significant amount of words down every day … that pushing lets it just flow on its own. I wrote a lot of junk, but there was a story in there, and I was able to keep a good portion of it.
Ooh, see…that’s always fun to hear. I can’t wait to read the next book, by the way !
The best part of giving blood? Free cookies at the end! The best part of writing? Free cookies! Well, not exactly free. But if you buy some cookies and promise to eat them only after you’ve written, then, yeah. Cookies.
Excellent advice, Dave 🙂
I have had three children and you would think I would be past the giving blood heebie jeebies. I’m not. My max limit is a vial. To give a pint might do me in. Kudos to you for pushing through the yuck for a good cause.
In terms of writing, I think deadlines sort of take the fun out of letting the words tumble out. I think those “free cookies” of advice are well paid for.
Hallie, Oh, I know. If I ever have to go in for a blood test, I cringe at multiple vials. How I survive the pint-size experience, I don’t know. And, on deadlines, they – like most things in writing – require balance for me: I need them, but I can’t let them run the show 🙂
Thanks for stopping by!