So maybe my college years were a waste and I apparently haven't paid much attention in my last 20 years of newspaper and magazine work. There are probably people who would have caught it on the first conference they attended, but I had to travel 400 miles of Florida sun in an open convertible to my second Sleuthfest for the epiphany.
Writers write.
Every writers' conference is a bizarre mix of those who made it, those who will make it and those who will never make it. The latter two categories genuflect to the former.
This time I stopped worshipping long enough to pay attention.
At 71 Robert Parker is producing one stand-alone and two series books a year. He writes five pages in the morning on one book and five in the evening on another. Divide his total number of titles by the number of years he's been writing and you see his pace has been consistent, if not accelerating in recent years.
Perhaps he is as personally blessed as he has been professionally gifted, but the odds of anyone working through 30 plus years without health or family problems are miniscule.
Regardless of the circumstances, he kept writing.
Panel after panel, the people I want to be when I grow up said the same thing. No excuses. No whining. Write. Keep writing. It's the only way to sharpen your tools. It's the only way to get it right.
Parker dismissed the myth of writer's block with a comparison to a plumber refusing to answer a call because of plumber's block.
So it isn't about art and temperament.
It's more craft than art. The more you practice a craft, the better it develops.
So I've been to plumber school. It's time to join the union.

Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs