Illogical completion phobia
I tend to learn something new about my process every day, even when I don’t write. Weirdly enough, I’m starting to think the times I’m writing and the times I’m not are equally important. At the moment, I’ve been wrestling with that feeling of utter stupidity I have from looking at the first draft of Lanternfly and going, “what next?”
Truth be told, I have a crystal-clear image of what I need to do, how I want to go about doing it–but I can’t. I don’t know if its that I took so much out of myself just getting the manuscript done, or that I’ll dig in and discover I actually hate what I’ve been working on for what’s going on (technically) five years. Whatever it is, I’m in this limbo of, “oh, come the fuck on, Ben,” and “eh… it’ll pass.” Maybe this whole process is like a diet, where you’ll always start it “tomorrow.”
Well, I’m technically on a diet right now, and that’s going terribly (in fact, the only thing I’ve managed to hold together is biking to and from work every day). I’m also stuck working full time at work this week, which also marks my one year anniversary at this job. All my shifts are closes, which means I literally have no time to anything other than wake up, go to work, make however-many hundreds of lattes, go home, and dick around until I have to do it all over again.
Of course, I COULD not dick off and actually plug in my flash drive and open up the manuscript, or at least crack my journal and get some concepts done. I COULD write down those ideas I’ve been batting around in my head for the last three days about book two and where that might be going. Or I could continue to sit here and get down on myself about *FINALLY* finishing a book after two years of being a recluse until I could actually get a workable idea rolling.
What I think I’m learning is that this part–just like starting the actual book, is probably a lot harder than it is. I’m gonna hem, I’m gonna haw, but at some point I’m just gonna quit my whining, knuckle down and do it. It’s not like I’m completely void of time. Seriously, I could have turned out some serious material in the time I just wasted on LOST (even though the words “wasted” and “LOST” can’t be used in the same sentence).
So, that said, sleep, and tomorrow–writing. If not, I give my ghost-readers every license to kill me.
Thanks for reading.