- Joined
- Jul 29, 2008
- Messages
- 333
- Reaction score
- 28
Yesterday, I got back on the writing horse after being off it a couple days. Pattered away at the keyboard for about an hour, having an easier go at it than I expected. Everything seemed to be falling into place where I thought I'd have trouble, given I felt I'd end up shoe-horning things into place in my attempt to seamlessly mesh two previous drafts together into one uber-draft.
Then our power went out. Stayed out from 4:30-11:45PM. Microsoft Word salvaged all of my hard work, thankfully, but when I went back at it today, I felt like I was only managing to be a poor man's me. Couldn't even bring myself to suffer through it with the, "Butt in chair," philosophy because I was writing myself further and further into a corner because of the crap that was pouring out. While yesterday I was decisive about plot details, today I am wishy-washy and unable to choose one direction and stick with it.
I considered going back over what I'd written today and yesterday instead, thinking maybe it'd help me get back in that head space, but hated the prospect of going back over the crap I churned out in the past couple hours. I'd spend a couple more hours just untangling the disorderly web I spun.
I remember Scarlett being particularly down on herself at one point about being a hot and cold writer, and I recall expressing that I felt the same way at times, but I think I am beginning to plunge into the same depths as her in terms of having tons of misgivings and feeling cold enough as far as writing is concerned for me to think it's already winter. Don't know if I'm looking for reassurance or what, but I just felt I needed to post this. Say to it what you will.
Then our power went out. Stayed out from 4:30-11:45PM. Microsoft Word salvaged all of my hard work, thankfully, but when I went back at it today, I felt like I was only managing to be a poor man's me. Couldn't even bring myself to suffer through it with the, "Butt in chair," philosophy because I was writing myself further and further into a corner because of the crap that was pouring out. While yesterday I was decisive about plot details, today I am wishy-washy and unable to choose one direction and stick with it.
I considered going back over what I'd written today and yesterday instead, thinking maybe it'd help me get back in that head space, but hated the prospect of going back over the crap I churned out in the past couple hours. I'd spend a couple more hours just untangling the disorderly web I spun.
I remember Scarlett being particularly down on herself at one point about being a hot and cold writer, and I recall expressing that I felt the same way at times, but I think I am beginning to plunge into the same depths as her in terms of having tons of misgivings and feeling cold enough as far as writing is concerned for me to think it's already winter. Don't know if I'm looking for reassurance or what, but I just felt I needed to post this. Say to it what you will.
