May. 30th, 2016

gluedwithgold: (Default)
It was about a year ago that I started writing again after a twenty year hiatus (yes, I'm old enough that twenty years of my adult life can pass with significance - pipe down, you whippersnappers!). I started writing basically as soon as I learned to read, and never stopped all through high school and college (I majored in writing and literature - go figure). But once I graduated and the relative freedom of school was ripped from my hands as I wailed and moaned, begging and grasping for it with aching, bloodied fingers (I may be exaggerating a wee bit) and I had to engage in "real life" I let go of the passion and dove into the daily grind of making a living. Writing was always at least in the back of my mind, and throughout the years I made half-hearted attempts at renewing my passion, reinventing my determination and discipline. It never stuck, until now.

Now I'm focused and passionate, spending more time thinking about writing than anything else, and actually writing for at least a few hours most days. I seem to have hit a roadblock, however. I have so many ideas and so much desire - my favorite daydream right now is being able to quit my day job and write full time - that I've found myself stagnant.

I'm three quarters finished with a J2 RPF College AU, I have a solid idea for [livejournal.com profile] spnhorrorbang that I can't wait to dive into, I have another exciting idea for another J2 RPF AU story (a fantasy genre story that's so far out of the realm of what I normally write that I'm chomping at the bit to explore it), a half-formed idea for an original story that I intend to write during this year's NaNoWriMo that I really want to flesh out so I'm more prepared for the month-long marathon in November, my fiction journal is slowly filling up with other ideas and it seems I have something newsmack me in the face with a resounding splat every day (ideas are gooey - they splate when they hit). On top of all these ideas, I have an uncontrollable desire to work on certain elements of my writing - exploring different points of view, experimenting with stream-of-consciousness narration, toying with theme and motif - to learn and grow as a writer (which, of course, can only be accomplished by writing - duh).

Sounds like a writer's dream, right? Except that I'm finding myself completely overwhelmed by all of this, and when I get overwhelmed I turn into a possum curled up in a tight ball in the middle of the road in the dead of night. I get overwhelmed and I just can't do anything. I sit down to write, and the thousand words that would have taken me an hour and a half struggles out over three hours because my mind won't settle in, it's constantly skittering from one thought and idea to the next without every pausing to work on the task at hand. And what I do manage to produce is dry and lacking the heart of what I push out when I'm really focused and writing with flow.

So what the fuck do I do now? Well, my best guess is - I write. I put my butt in the chair, my fingers on the keyboard and I struggle through forcing every constipated word I can get out onto the page. Maybe everything I write will be crap, and I'll have to edit the fuck out of it to make something even remotely readable out of it. But if I let this overwhelming stagnancy take hold, I'm in for another hiatus of whining and complaining that "I wish I could write because I miss it." Fuck that. Writers write, and whether I'm writing coma-inducing crap or amazing literature that will change the collective consciousness of the universe, I am a writer. 

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