Funny but unfortunately true: it’s a harrowing experience to write. I have some writing goals that have lagged all this week, in part because the plots for my novel and my short story both winged off to parts unknown. I am desperately running after them, but so far this results in no words that can stay on the page (they’re all in the “free-write outside of the story” arena).
That’s one of the reasons I started up Flash Friday, staring with a serial story with characters Phineas Zene and Sebastian Arcady, whom I have known for only a few hours longer than everybody else.
Sometimes a public deadline can help focus the mind tremendously. Sometimes… it doesn’t.
And I am still posting links to things instead of writing interesting things in the blog, because I am still somewhere in the hell that’s either Chapter 5 or Chapter 6 of THIS DAMNED BOOK which seems determined to be longer than it was meant to be. (You’re not a novel, I tell it. You’re not even a novella. You’re a novelette. And you’re due in on Monday. But the story merely laughs and stretches ominously and I have no idea what this bloody pool is doing in the middle of the forest.)
The only difference between writers and wannabe writers is that writers keep going and finish.