MONKEY BUSINESS

Has the dizzy monkey knocked on your door lately? You know the one, that annoying visitor that pops in unannounced and unwelcome. He’ll tease and taunt you, pushing all your buttons.

The dizzy monkey will question your story idea and maybe even the plot. Heck, if you let him in, he’ll have you delete dialog and change the setting. He’s a relentless distracter and sower of doubt.

Before you wad up and pitch that draft, filled with your best attempt at intrigue or mystery, consider this: The dizzy monkey has paid a visit to each of us at one time or another.

I know how you feel. He’s been at my door before, too. Want to know what I do? Read on.

No one is immune to the dizzy monkey. I doubt there’s a writer on the planet who has not endured his painful nagging at one time or another. Struggling to land the right words on paper is not an easy task. Sometimes the writing stars are aligned, and all is right with the world and our words. Other times, not so much. 

The opportunity-seeking dizzy monkey sweeps in with a loud, pervasive voice. He pokes at us with questions, wreaks havoc on our equilibrium, leaving us reeling without a handrail.

Is that the best you’ve got? or Who would want to read that? the mangy critter chides. 

Before you head down that road of insecurity, take a deep breath. Stand up, stretch, and show that nuisance the door. And just so you know, it’s anything but a one-time-fix. 

Occasionally, for me, that darn thing still comes around. But I’m now more prepared and here’s how I got there.

1. Before I open up my laptop, I jot down one goal I want to complete. This goal may be to create a character I’ve been tormented by for a new piece of fiction. I want to know everything about my new guy or gal. Not just the basics of this new character, like their outward appearance, but anything that makes them unique. Maybe they suffer from an allergy to asparagus or vanilla ice cream, have no eyebrows, or are color-blind. I set out to know that character better than their mother. Oh, wait! I am their mother because they didn’t exist before I created them. I know the tone of their voice and how they’ll respond in any situation. Once I’ve exhausted myself or my character, I stand up and say, “Okay, I’ve got this!”

2. I choose two situational circumstances. Let’s say my character blows a tire on the freeway and hits a retaining wall. Or another car blows a tire right in front of him on the highway, and he watches the MG hit the stone wall before careening down a steep embankment. Maybe the blonde in the MG had just passed your character’s Honda, and there was a flirtatious nod. I’ll write about each situation for fifteen minutes and see which one speaks the loudest to me. Now I’m on a roll.

3. Self-esteem in check, I get off-the-chart brazen and ask, “What if…?” I sit back, contemplate without restraint, five or six ‘what ifs’ within my storyline. The protagonist may act totally out of character in her social environment. What if she slurps her soup from a bowl in front of her in-laws-to-be at the country club? What if my protagonist ran away when I planned for him to stay? What if he returns with a degree in political science and is offered a government job back in town? And everyone thought he’d been in jail. Or my virgin bride was three months pregnant, and it wasn’t the groom’s baby? Or what if the sleepy town was deep in scandal just beneath its gentile surface? Dizzy monkey, be gone!  

These exercises help to build confidence when doubt throws up a roadblock. They encourage mental stretching and lubricate my creative juices.

I remind myself, too, of the stories that I wouldn’t have written, the joy I wouldn’t have experienced, had I not persevered and shared my stories with others.  

Our words come from a deep place within us. There’s a well of gifts waiting to pass along. Like fresh-cut flowers from someone’s garden or a delicious pie from a neighbor’s kitchen, they’re a joy to give and to receive.

I enjoy writing snippets of life experiences in a short story. Yet fiction has no rigid boundaries and encourages my freedom of unleashed creativity. I’ve even written poetry when the mood strikes. How about you?

Revisiting a nostalgic memory can be refreshing, even therapeutic. I like the art of writing, putting my thoughts into words on paper. Sharing those written words is a personal choice.

Several years ago, I wrote a short story that I’ve read at dinner parties and in writing classes. I’ve mailed it to friends, too. The story takes place in a brief moment in a foreign country. It involves a bus, a driver, his lunch break, a rickety boat ride, and a lesson learned from a young man who spoke little English. 

Imagine if I had not controlled the dizzy monkey’s chatter and taken the risk of writing the first draft. My gift, a story of personal growth, would be a seed that never sprouted.  

Instead, my story became a gracious blossom nurtured and longing to be shared. It added another dimension to each of our lives. Friends got to know me better, and I got to relive that momentous time again. 

I’m reminded often of the lesson the non-English speaking young man taught me so many years ago: Fully embrace present moments for they may surprise you by lasting a lifetime. And indeed they have.

Send me an email at [email protected], if you’d like to read the story. It is my gift to you, and I’d love to hear your comments.

Until next time, write as if no one will ever read your words. And choose to share them or let them go to the wind. You, my fellow writer, are holding the pen.