And here’s the post that I was planning on for today. Today you get two.
I don’t know why it’s happening, but it is. A week ago, I was roaring with writing confidence. I came out of the Donald Maass workshop with a ton of work to do on my novel. This isn’t a big deal. Work doesn’t intimidate me. I’ve spent seven years on a doctorate, two years on getting a costume just right, and at work I continually work to improve the classes and staff I’m in charge of. My life is one big ouevre of hard work.
I’m actually a hard work kind of girl. I like working hard. Bring on the work ethic! I really thought that having structure and a plan, rather than just this vague idea that I had to fix the morass of my novel, would make my life easier.
I have done a lot of work with structure and back story. I have done some of the Maass exercises. I’m doing the writing RIGHT NOW. I’m doing it. I’m not shirking at all.
And yet, I am terrified this week. What if I can’t do all this? What if I can’t turn this thing into the great work I want it to be? What if my time for writing this has past? Should I move on to something else? I don’t want to. I don’t think that’s the case at all. But what if?
The logical answers are pretty clear. You revise until you get it right, or you decide you can’t. You’ll know. The emotional answers are not so clear. I love this story cycle, I love these characters, and I want to share them in the best way I possibly can. I’m not putting this out there until it’s right, and other readers agree with me.
With that kind of mind set, I have to ask myself why I’m so afraid. The only thing I can think of is writer insanity. I can do this. But I hear writers have these periods of time where they doubt themselves and think what they’re doing is crap or worthless, or, as in my case, they don’t have the chops to do it.
So, if you’re out there this week, doubting yourself for any reason, I’m with you. I’m thinking this is a normal part of both the writing process and the beginning of a large task. I’m intimidated. I’m insecure. Insecure? I guess that means I’m a typical writer.
At least I hope so. I’m hoping some of you will weigh in with your anecdotes to make me feel better, or at least to make sure I don’t need therapy.
Next week will be better.
Catherine
The events of the past few months make the premise of my novel look too much tied in, even though I came up with them two years ago. I’m tired, and I haven’t been writing too frequently. It sucks. I keep trying to fend off the urge to refocus that on myself. To make it, “I suck.” Plus, there’s the other book I’d rather be writing, but even that’s intimidating me and feels a little past prime (even though it’s not).
So, no, you’re not alone. Part of the games the gibbering gremlins play with your psyche. It’s a close match to the “this is old, look at the shiny new thing…”.
Thanks, Steve, for the reassurance that this is a common thing.
BTW, did you get my email about the interview?
Catherine
I tried to write an answer to you last week – and apparently while LJ failed, you still got the message (see your latest post.)