I’ve currently hit a snag. It’s not that I can’t write or don’t know what to write, I just haven’t written. Its a kind of depression. I find my writing is okay, but my story isn’t… if that makes since. The plot is twisted into something that’s overly complicating in an already active story. I find the need to scream and destroy my manuscript like a madman going on a killing spree. Why the heck did I write this? What possessed me?
Now I have to go back and undo that which I did.
It gave me pause. Made me not want to write for a while. Made me see how much work as an author I need. No one’s perfect, but dagnabit this is freakin’ ridiculous! All I wanted to do was write a story and I end up destroying a completely sound idea. I ran away from my own synopsis.
As I look back, what I did was sabotage myself: shot the hell out of my foot. I was so afraid of success that I was about to cripple my writing. But that is a story for another day, just know that fear is a nasty bugger.
I love to write. And even when I feel like writing isn’t worth it, it is. I can’t think of a time I didn’t write something. So I must move on, even if I have to back up and try again, or in this case, rewrite and revise.
Keep writing. Keep doing it and doing it. Even in the moments when it’s so hurtful to think about writing.
~Heather Armstrong, author~