Daydreams and Hard Work
Who knows? Fantasies, fragments of conversations, images, news stories; the list is endless. Daydreams are a favourite of mine. When I was much, much younger, like everyone else I had daydreams about how I wanted my life to be. Mostly these dreams consisted of me being beautiful, witty, rich and with a gorgeous husband.
Then as I got older the dreams morphed into a Cinderella theme. Me being the unrecognized champion of the underprivileged, who eventually became a world leader (incipient megalomania tendencies I guess). But still, I was beautiful with a gorgeous lover (note the husband was dropped). Then there was a further development where the love wasn’t always a man.
As I started to write some of these daydreams down, I realised how boring they were. Who wants to read about a beautiful, rich, successful woman with numerous lovers? Well, quite a few people as it turns out. But only if she deserves all her bounty and only if she goes through quite a struggle to get what she wants/deserves.
And sometimes she realises she doesn’t want what she thought she wanted. Maybe riches and world domination aren’t what they’re cracked up to be. She still wants the lover/husband (I am a romance writer after all), but maybe her partner is not cookie-cutter gorgeous but a lot more complex and interesting.
So ideas are not enough. A good story well written is the stuff of successful fiction. That’s where the hard work comes in.
All of this is on my mind because I dodge hard work wherever I can. In my non-writing life, I’m a sloth. If I could take a pill that would make me fit and healthy I would. But alas, like writing, there are no short cuts to good health.
So with writing I have to put one word after the other and with exercise, one foot after the other. With gritted teeth. And of course, the magical thing happens and I start to enjoy it. My gorgeous, beautiful but humanly flawed heroine comes to life.
And as I walk, in the words of Ron Sexsmith I notice:
The leaves have lost hold of the branches as always
And leaves us with gold and wine colored pathways
In the same way I’ve
The same way I’ve fallen for you
(It’s autumn here, my favourite time of year).
So, ideas + hard work = pleasure.
About Keziah Hill
After many years working for other people, most notably in the criminal justice system, Keziah Hill now writes almost full-time. Living in the blissful Blue Mountains west of Sydney, she’s surrounded by bushland, native birds and the odd marauding possum. She divides her time between a thriving garden, writing erotica, romantic suspense and procrastinating.