So lately, I have felt very productive. I have started a blog and kept it running for 3 weeks now, this will be my 15th post. That’s a lot of writing and dedication in general. I have also upped my social and cultural awareness, frequenting other blogs and even commenting occasionally. I started strong with working on critiques, though that has waned. I have more or less stuck to an exercise schedule that has been actually working for me, something I’ve tried to do for years. Not to mention homeschooling the kid without murdering him yet. I have learned a lot and gotten a hell of a lot done in the past few weeks. Then why do I feel like I am not accomplishing much?
I have done a lot to be proud of lately. But I haven’t written much story wise. This is depressing for me, I am supposed to be a writer. Writers write, last I checked. Yes, I have reasons, I have been busy, I have been drained of energy some days. But I have had time when I could of and have had days where writing should have been easy. But I am always stuck not knowing what the hell to put on the page. Even with a million ideas, the act of translating those ideas and expanding them into dialog and action is especially difficult for me sometimes.
Until I get past this, there is no way I will be able to be a writer. I do not know what it will take though. This is definitely my own personal writers block. I know with practice it will come easier, but how to practice starting when you don’t know where to start. I have managed 15 days of blogs, most days without knowing what the hell to write. Unfortunately, fiction is apparently much harder for me than blogging.
So my goal for the weekend is to write 6,000 words. I don’t care if I have to pull my own teeth out to use in some diving ritual, or read my tea leaves, or read the entrails of a rodent. I will write this weekend. It can be crap, it can be complete horse shit. It will get done. I cannot be a writer without writing, so writing I shall do.
Goddamn I am dreading this weekend.