Y’know how I was going to start typing things yesterday? Yeah, uhm, I didn’t. And I haven’t yet today, because my brain is just like, “No, typing hard! Play Candy Crush! And listen to podcasts!”
It doesn’t help that a storm is getting ready to roll in tonight and is making my head hurt.
Also doesn’t help that I’ve been wrestling with insecurity about my story for the last month or so, trying to convince myself that the idea isn’t terrible, that I’m not wasting my time, that I’m writing a story that only I’m going to be interested in, that <insert typical instance of authorial self-doubt here>.
But then when I look at my story, I get these happy little feelings of “Oh, this isn’t bad! This makes sense!” and “If I do this, this and this instead of that, then I can tie these plot threads together and it will make a better story!” The problem, it seems, is to get my confidence up and keep it up and banish the doubts to the cornfield.
Well, that and actually start typing the damn book up…which I will do, uh…tomorrow? For reals?
So, yeah, chalk this up to a lazy day wherein the writer is doing a lot of thinking about things and considering options but not actually producing anything tangible.
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I was surfing around over at TVtropes and followed a link which led to a link which led to this article by Michael A. Stackpole that is very germane to my current issues of insecurity. So, I thought I’d edit this post and share a quote from When Is Crap crap? by Michael A. Stackpole.
Crap is crap when the author doesn’t care enough to work hard; and doesn’t believe in himself enough to take pride in his work. Those who produce crap will sink without a trace. Not because of a rising tide of crap, but because they deliberately swim toward the bottom, open their mouths, and willfully suck.