It’s been ages since I last talked about writing. And by ages, I mean, one week. But since the end of Nano, I’ve only been touching my novel with a long end of the stick. It’s been so hard to get back to writing it and I know it’s going to be even worse to start editing it.
Strangely enough, the problems that were plaguing a lot of the Wrimos during November are starting to come out to me in fullforce. It all started with a shower (doesn’t everything?) and me trying to figure out what would be my next writing project, despite, you know being 1/3rd in my story.
And then, I came up with this brilliant, or at least I thought it was brilliant, storyline about some kids who decided to go out camping. And then I started plotting, came out with the characters, came out with the feel.
Except, as always, the honeymoon period to the story ends about a week into its conception. You start convincing yourself, that your story is not as brilliant as the movie that just came out recently. You wonder why on earth Aussies don’t like your story (even though, it might just be one Australian, naturally you will extend the generalisation to an entire nation)? And then why on earth are you not romantic enough? Some of my friends write stories that are sentimental and romantic, I find that my stories are cold and grey, seen through ice, written through eyes who care very little for sentiment and romance.
And then I start wondering if there’s something wrong with me? What’s wrong with my heart that it rarely beats for anything romantic? Why don’t I chase for love like Disney Princesses?
All this of course, in between daydreaming up the plot for my sequel (fuckin’ hell, I haven’t even completed the first book or even started the heartbreaking attempts at selling it) and then wondering if DT will be okay due to his back surgery. I show more concern for an actor who does not know my existence then I do about the events surrounding me. Priorities, priorities, priorities.
So what does this all mean? I know it just means that I have not been working hard enough on the story when doubts start to creep in. But November burnt me out quite a bit. In between writing papers, negotiating for a new job, working on Wrimo and even the shorts for NIDA, I’m starting to feel the weight on my shoulders is going to press me down to the floor and I’m just going to collapse one of these days.
During these times, I usually do one thing and that is I keep repeating the final two lines of my favourite Robert Frost’s poem. And that is what I must do, so for now I bid you adieu as I do some work that earns me a living as quickly as possible in between trying to get a few words in for my novel.