“sj is mine wordpress.com”
That, ladies and gentlefolk, is the one and only Top Search listed for this blog. I’m slightly
flattered horrified by it.
You may or may not have noticed I didn’t do my scheduled update yesterday. I did not purposefully avoid to do so out of laziness, however. I avoided doing so out of progress and a bit of fear that astonishingly had nothing to do with the creepy way people are finding this blog. (Hello, you freaks, pull up a chair and sit next to me. But please keep your hands to yourself. Here, try this lovely straight jacket. They’re kind of in this year.)
No .My fear, like it usually tends to be, is completely illogical. Having no basis in actual facts and everything to do with my own insecurities. Mainly about my ability to string words together in an effort form not just coherent but “pretty” sentences. Oh yeah, and tell a story while I’m doing it. Nobody said it would be this hard! Don’t look at me like that, you can’t even imagine the immensity of my pain. My sad raincloud of woe and despair.
Actually it’s kind of funny because I had the most insanely productive week ever. I worked on 6 scenes. That’s like unheard of. Sure, they’re all in various stages of WIPitude, and some are barely more than 300 words. But the scenes, they are there! Except part of the reason there are new scenes is because I started over-thinking, and worrying that my beginning isn’t really my beginning but that the new beginning isn’t as hooky but if I don’t keep it no one will understand Helena’s motivation and OMG I SUCK.
It go to the point where I was propositioning my writerly peeps on twitter to stand over my shoulder and tell me I don’t suck. I offered to pay them in baked goods. Because baking is the kind of thing I do when I’m having a creative melt-down….*nibbles on a brownie*
It all started when Holly Lisle sent out an e-mail about her new course, How To Write a Series. And lo, she wept, for she recognized it as the gift from the heavens that it was. And with haste, she clicked on the holy linkage and received her blessing with thanks and good tidings while a choir sang in the background a thunderous “HALLELUJAH”. And she watched in awe and learned many things.
And then it started to fuck with me.
In a good way. Because it made me really stop and consider what I want to be writing, what I want people to take away from this story, and what I want to put into it and the best way to go about doing that.
And then I got many ideas. Amen.
Thing is? None of this is a BAD thing. In fact, this is the best creative melt down I’ve had in the history of ever because it’s totally lighting a fire under my ass and pushing me to go the distance. I’m ENTHUSIASTIC, which is totally blocking my Blank Page Fright Syndrome. And while my offer for the exchange of baked goods for reassurance of unsuckitudinous writing still stands, (
because I’m a horrible approval-seeking strumpet and baking-whore) I think I might just know what I’m doing.
I have to write the story that wants to be written and worry about things like being a “happy hooker” later. I have a real opportunity to raise the stakes for my character and put her through hell-er, I mean, really make the story matter.
So that’s what I’m going to do.