Saturday, November 12, 2011

Write-fail

Working on a ridiculous novel, and I don’t know where to take it. I don’t pre-write; I’m not adamantly opposed, I just don’t know how to do it. Outlines and drafts sort of escape me. This is what makes me feel like not-a-writer.

I went to an open lecture by a local author a couple years ago, and one of the bits of advice he gave is to get up early on the weekend and write for four hours each day. He said he wrote many novels in 8 hours bits of time over the weekend while maintaining his main career as a lawyer. I was impressed, and did that for one weekend. I got a lot of writing done, and most of it wasn’t even terrible; I didn’t stick with it though, and now I have no novels and a bunch of over-sleeping piled up behind me.

So now I’m working on a silly novel and even something as low stress as a stupid writing project that will never see the light of day is filling me with feelings of doubt and anxiety and failure.

Also, I’m hungry and evidently I can’t write when I’m hungry. Earlier it was coffee that I needed, and before that a cigarette (cause I still haven’t quit, if you’re wondering). Perhaps I am manufacturing reasons why I can’t write.

Is it cold in here? I need slippers…

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Lacking momentum

Writing has a certain momentum, right? Fiction or flash or poetry or blogging… if you don't keep at it regularly the skill to create satisfying prose and annoyingly clever word usements atrophies.

It's disappointing to admit that this has happened to me. I have always gone through phases where I write less frequently, but the times for weeks on end when I'm constantly working on stuff in my head and waking up in the middle of the night to jot down ideas or whole paragraphs always felt like it balanced out the other times.

Up until a few weeks ago I was writing almost daily. Nothing earth-moving, and nothing worth sharing, but I was doing it. Usually while I did other morning-type business, which is the best time to spend a few minutes focused on nothing else because you're stuck in a 3x4 room, but whatever.

And then I made the mistake of verbalising it. I told a friend I was "writing more", because I was all pleased with me. And then, suddenly, I didn't write more. I wrote less, until I was writing nothing at all. This comes at a really gross time for me, because I was sort of preparing for NaNoWriMo and I was pretty excited for it. I've never participated, and the last two years something ridiculously unavoidable has come up and prevented me from having the emotional energy to do it.

This year, I just got lazy. Oh, I'm busy for sure and there are 42 other things that need my attention, but I really could have made time for it if my words hadn't dried up and blown away like one of those annoying weeds I used to make wishes on as a girl.

So I'm checking out the website and drooling over Scrivener and following the Facebook blah-blah and wishing I could find words that wanted to come out of my head.

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