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shadowlight ([personal profile] shadowlight) wrote2011-11-15 11:19 pm
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National Whining About How Writing is Hard Month

I know the point of National Novel Writing Month is to create a countering pressure to all the reasons why everything else is more important than getting any writing done. and yet, I still get frustrated, stand up from my keyboard, try to do something else, realize I'm overwhelmed by my never-ending to-do list and unable to prioritize what to do first or next. I think about calling someone for a reality check, some reassurance, something, but can't decide who to call. I spend several minutes just feeling worthless and stupid and pissed at myself for being so frigging emo, and then I sit down at the keyboard again. I did this at least six times tonight, just writing that last blog entry.
Halfway through the month, I'm 10,000 words in on my story (ie, a fifth of the way) and I'm been feeling less than impressed with this story since Day 2. I don't know enough about most of the stuff in here, the setting, the characters, how psych wards are constructed, whether it's too 'occult', ... this was supposed to be just the warm-up before all the stuff I planned out started to happen, and now I probably won't even get to the parts I did all the planning for in November. I can't seem to make myself prioritize the writing. I can't seem to let go and just write as if I were speaking it to an empty room, making it up as I went along. ...which was its natural state, since it was originally a game scenario.
I had been writing every day, but not enough each day. One night, I fell asleep pressing a key and had to delete a page and a half of the letter 'd'. Then, that stopped. I've missed three days. Today, I decided I'd write one of the occupy posts I've been wanting to write but unable to because of using all my keyboard time for my stunted novel. One of them. There are more. I thought if that went easier, I'd shift to those for a while to get writing in while buying time to figure out why I'm so uneasy with this story. ...however, as noted, my spurts of rapid typing were still interrupted by guilt that I wasn't doing more for the church, more to get my holiday plans untangled, more to clean this place, and I wasn't doing the novel. Whatever. I don't know. It's 980 words. maybe I shouldn't count it. Maybe I'll only count it if it makes a difference at the end of the month. I doubt it will, so it doesn't matter.