53,500 words (pedal to the metal once again...)
Dylan and I've been friends for years now. When my last book stalled last year (seemed like forever but actually a couple-three weeks or so), he was surprised to find out I get writer's block the same as anybody. I just try to nip it in the bud.
This one wasn't the Inner Critic. I wasn't worried my words weren't good enough, though if I'd let the situation continue, I might have started.
It wasn't What-Happens-Next. I've got a good sense now of where I'm going, even if I don't know how I'll get there.
Problem was, I was trying to write forward while my mind was writing back. That is, I sat there asking for the rest of the current scene, and what started playing was an earlier scene I knew I would need but hadn't written yet.
So last night I sat down and made a start. Fifteen hundred words and a couple of hours later, I had my earlier scene and a lot of surprising revelations that streamlined the plot and made stuff I didn't understand make sense.
Now I've got to sit down and do it all over again today...
3 comments:
Writing is like cleaning the house. You just have to clean it again in a few days.
A good way to put it. I've discovered that often when I'm "blocked" it's because I subconsciously know something is wrong with the story, either what I've already written or the direction I'm trying to get it to go. In those times, the block is a gift.
indeed, the words are like dust motes in the sunlight. just keep writing, my friend, full throttle or power to turbines, engines to speed...da da da da da da dada batman!
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