I think I’m going to refrain from progress updates until I get closer to the end. There’s just something about setting unrealistic goals publicly on a frequent basis that just bums me out. It bums me out when I don’t meet them. It gives me this intense feeling of apprehension. On one hand, I think it’s good for me as a writer to constantly set goals for myself and deadlines too. They help me focus up and knuckle down. But on the other hand, I know myself too well and I almost never hit my goals or deadlines when I’m left to my own devices. And I know that before I even set the goals.
When I think about the way things are right now, I know that I’ll feel better once I’ve finished writing this novel, whether or not it’s a success. While I know that I’m genuinely making progress as opposed to two years ago when it was just a short story and an idea, it feels wrong to keep up the facade that I’m pushing myself and working hard. In reality, I’m more or less sauntering through it and working occasionally. But it’s not like you didn’t already know that.
Right now, for instance, I’ve had writer’s block for like two weeks. I’m virtually at the exact same spot, taking notes every now and then but mostly distracting myself with video games. I’ve honestly been trying to get past it but there’s just this slab of uncertainty. I used to boast about how everything just sort of wrote itself and how I could just feel what my characters need to say and do. But it’s gotten harder with a change of scenery and new characters that I’m still introducing myself to. I know that sounds silly, it even felt silly to type it, but I don’t have a better way of describing it. I want to be true to them. I have to be.
So basically, I may say that I’m hard at work but it doesn’t feel like it, at least not right now. I suppose that depends on how you look at it.
I had a feeling that just talking about how difficult it was to learn about them would open my eyes a little. And it kind of did. I think it’s difficult to listen to them because they don’t want to talk to me. Which is understandable. They can’t see the writer of their story as just anybody. They’d have to see the writer as a sort of god. And how couldn’t they? I’m in complete control, which is exactly what they don’t want.
See, this is why I thoroughly enjoy blogging. I can just write in a stream of consciousness and learn something from myself by the end of it. I think I know what to do now but yeah I’ll still be quiet on progress for a little while regardless. Revelations in the middle of spilling out the inner workings of my brain are cool though. Wish I could say I planned it.