When it all leaves your head
I haven’t written a blog entry in quite some time. Mostly because I’ve had other things to worry about, but now writing is back on that worry list and it’s sitting at number one.
What’s got me worried is my inability to write anything. At all.
Usually if someone posted a comment about this happening to them I would probably try to help which is kind of ironic now. Plus the fact my advice would be full of bullshit.
I’ve never had this problem before and to be honest I never thought I would. I tried to stop writing once, just to see what would happen, and I couldn’t, I couldn’t actually do it. Writing is like an addiction and I’m confident it’s the same for many writers.
This inability to write is made all the more concerning for me because I’m really excited about my current WIP. I want to write chapter after chapter. I know where my story is going, where it’s set, who the characters are and their goals. For once I feel as if I could complete this story so why, why has it recently become a struggle to write one lousy sentence? Is this karma toying with me?
Right at this very moment it’s suddenly become clear to me (yes I can be a little slow) that I am in fact writing something. Obviously this is different, this isn’t creative, I’m merely bitching to anyone who’ll read this and empathise with me. And thank you.
My inability to write came to me in a not so obvious way, in the sense that I didn’t think much of it. It was a few days back when I couldn’t for the life of me end the first chapter of my story. It’s never happened before, so I turned to my BF for some advice. She offered little help which I don’t blame her for because it’s my writers block and I’m the writer. I tried to think of a solution and the best one I came up with was to simply not finish it, just let it hang and move on after all it’s only the first draft and it’s better to just keep moving. I was somewhat satisfied with the idea so I set my creative juices on chapter two which is when the exciting stuff begins. This, however, is when I’ve discovered I really can’t write anything.
For the better half of this afternoon I sat and wrote four different opening paragraphs which all bugged the hell out of me and got me quite angry. This anger was something I didn’t expect and didn’t enjoy, obviously. I’ve managed to pin point its sudden fiery existence to my feeling of haplessness brought on by this problem which in turn makes this anger rise. Huh, I’ve completed a 360. (At this point I should explain I have a mild case of perfectionism when it comes to my writing. In my case it’s an extremely bad habit to have because it’s prevented me from finish any of my novels… all nine of them. Sigh. But I’m trying very hard to ignore the little voice that demands everything I write to be prefect first time round because I am well aware it will not and should not be this way. Stories take countless drafts and rewriting so I know that whatever I type or handwrite doesn’t need to be 100% good.) Nevertheless I can’t seem to get going, I can’t seem to get the words flowing (Ha!).
Tuesdays were a lot like Mondays at Summit HS—No!
Room 208 on a Tuesday morning was usually a dull place to be before English class began—No!
Anything and everything made news at Summit HS—No!
Garth hated Tuesdays. It felt like a go nowhere day, the inbetweener in the first half of the week—NO!
Actually I don’t mind most of the beginnings I’ve written except I run out of something to say after about seven lines, even though I know where it’s supposed to be going.
Okay now here it comes, here comes the moment I ask if anyone has some advice. Not being able to enjoy my passion is worrying me. I don’t want to let another novel become a hopeless endeavour. I don’t want it to sit in a folder in my computer and on my desk collecting dust. Help anyone? How do I get this going again? I know what I want to write, it’s just not coming out.
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