So – I am woefully behind on my last installment of the Visual Storyboarding series. I’ll spare you the excuses, or if you want to know precisely why I haven’t done more than flash fiction here in a good while, you can visit my Beauty of Painful Grit post.
Recently, I’ve tried to practice what I’ve been preaching to all of you since my blog first started in late September 2011. After months of lecturing on how to write, what to do, and not do, I’ve made it a priority to put my money where my mouth is. I’ve been writing – serious rewrites on Castle 8, and expanding my suddenly-hello-here-I-am-you-ought-to-write-me manuscript idea for Welsan.
But it’s easy to get discouraged when you’re writing bits and pieces every day, and your characters argue with you, or simply won’t cooperate. So I figured out a way to help me overcome the doubt that so often bogs us down.
I have so many jobs, and so many demands on my time, that making time to write is difficult. Of course, we could all say that – life in the 21st century is an ongoing cautionary lesson on the cannibalistic principle of busy-ness. Our lives eat us alive, and with it most (if not all) of our creative energy. That’s the very real threat, at any rate.
My writing funk came from knowing that I was doing a lot of writing – A LOT of writing – and yet very little of it was showing up in my manuscript. It was a horrible feeling to think that I was writing my fingers off and had “nothing” to show for it.
I was also discouraged because, a couple years ago, I and a few writing friends made it our mantra to write a minimum of 500 words a day. The ugly truth finally hit home: 500/day just wasn’t a feasible goal for me. It felt more like a hollow ritual that somehow had me by the neck.
So one day in mid-May I stopped, and took inventory of my writing life.
I thought about how much blogging I do. That I had been trying to get back into more flash fiction. That I was spending a chunk of time each month beta-reading for friends who are on the same road to publication that I am.
It wasn’t that I hadn’t invested in my love, I realized. I had lost track of how I invested in that love.