I've talked about "wonky" before, but I don't know that I've explained--here--what that looks like, for me. As I was reading Laurell K. Hamilton's blog the other day, these words describing her struggle to finish her current book came pretty close:
I can feel the end, as if I have reached into a dark space, and am reaching as far as my finger tips can stretch. I feel something at the very limit of my reach. I know it is the end, but I cannot see it. I cannot feel all of it. I do not know it’s shape complete, but only in the few pieces I can touch. A corner here, a smooth edge there . . . It’s there, I can feel it, but it’s just out of reach, no matter how far I stretch my fingers, my hand, my arm, my shoulder. I shove myself against the hole, and try to grab a hand hold so I can drag it out of the dark and into the light. I am no longer worried about what shape it is, or what it may be, only that it is the end. I long for the end of this book. I beat against these last few pages like the bars of some cage. I want out!
For me, it's not so much reaching into a hole as it is that *I* am in the hole, and that hole is about 90 feet down. And there's no one at the top to help me. I'm reaching up, desperately, not sure if I'll ever get out.
Why do I use a word like "wonky" to describe this? So that I can inject some levity into the situation. So I don't take myself so seriously. So I can climb out of the hole.
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