In all my talk of a writing addiction, the endorphin rush of the flow of a good writing session when the words pour out from somewhere that both is and isn't from and of me, for all that – and it's all true – there's another side. Times like today. After a long lull, a couple of months with just a day here or two days there to work on the novel, I've started back in this week. Day one, Tuesday, went okay. Kind of. Feet getting wet. Damp, at least. Day two, Wednesday, was one of those dreamscape writing sessions. Lovely. Which brings us to Day Three. Today. I eagerly turned on the computer, eagerly opened my Word file, ready for my fix. Stared at the words. Stared some more. Went off to check some blogs.
What, me, write? I don't THINK so. Nuh uh. Not gonna do it. Don't wanna do it. Can't go there, can't pull it out of me. It's too HARD!
But yesterday it was fun. What happened?
I don't know. Partly, I think, I was just tired. Got up too early to take Damian to OT across town. But partly… well… it happens. Sometimes it's not about the scene I'm writing, sometimes there's nothing wrong with the structure of what I've devised. Sometimes it's just this kind of self-consciousness that takes over. I examine every word before I write it, dissect it once it's on the screen, delete it and try again. It's not that any of it's bad, exactly. (Well, not all of it, anyway.) But it feels like I'm sitting outside myself, watching every thought as it forms. Trying to mimic the flow, fake the attitude. Sometimes it works, too, sometimes I ease into the stream that way. Other times, well, not so much.
Today I stopped writing and went to the bedroom to take a nap. Maybe tomorrow I'll regain the zen of writing, that non-thinking thought process that allows me to live the world instead of writing the words one by one. Wish me luck.
Posted by Tamar at October 21, 2004 10:10 PM