Adventures in Writing Land

So, my writing partner in crime and I seem to have the same problem when it comes to completing a book: we can’t finish one. I’ve just read her blog (writingsawitch@blogspot.com) and I found myself making comparisons to my own writing journey, so I decided to share my thoughts on the subject.

She’s absolutely right, writing a book is not an easy task. It’s been on my To-Do List and my New Year’s Resolution’s List for the past few years, and I’ve yet to actually check that one off. I expected it to be difficult, but sometimes it’s like I’m extracting teeth from my own head, and it hurts and I just want to stop for a while and let my head rest. But I can’t. I know I have to keep going. Even if I don’t want to, even if I want to sleep or read or play video games or some other form of distraction, I know I can’t let all of that get in the way. But I’ll still pout about it from time to time.

There’s a difference, too, between writing a book and writing a publishable book. Writers are perfectionists and the worst when it comes to self criticisms. We are way too analytical for our own good, and nothing is ever finished, not really. For us, when something is turned in (i.e. an essay, an article) we still cringe days later when we go back a reread what we turned in, wishing that we would have added this or taken this sentence out. It’s annoying and frustrating, but so set in our natures that we cannot help it. And would we really want it any other way? It’s good to not settle, and to always strive for the next level, even if it’s irritating. Right? I know when I post on my blog, I’ll go back and reread it and edit it if there are any errors that I catch (or that my roommate catches) because I’d rather not be judged by how I’ve written but what I’ve written instead.

Back to the discussion at hand, my friend and I have had the same issue with this whole writing a book thing, only she’s continued with primarily one idea this entire time, while I’ve gone from five different stories of varying variety and can’t seem to land on one long enough to write something worthy of continuing. Ugh. I’ve described it before by saying that I have a sort of ADHD when it comes to writing. There are few days that go by where I don’t write, but it’s mostly blogging and not on one of the many book ideas I have. I haven’t lost heart yet, I’m still diligently plugging away at ideas, but I think that my numero uno problem is that I don’t have one solid idea. I’ve got tons of little pictures in my head for several different characters and plot lines, but there isn’t one set world that stands out in my mind as something that I can write solidly from. I’m sorry if that doesn’t make sense. Some writers describe their book writing experience as being handed a perfectly wrapped gift, and everything unfolds neatly and prettily in their minds, so they are able to put to pen and paper exactly what they want to convey from the very beginning. As lovely as that is, my brain does not work in that way. At all. There are a bunch of half-wrapped, partially buried, some chewed on presents scattered around the floor beneath the tree that might contain something pretty, but it’s very hard to see. In fact, it’s so hard to tell what’s hiding in there, that I hesitate to poke my hand around for fear of what I might pull out. My brain is not neat, it is not orderly, but it’s the only one I’ve got, so I better start digging.

I just hope someone will drive me to the hospital if I pull my hand out and a few fingers are missing.