I think the last time I really concentrated on my book was sometime back in August. I’ve dibble-dabbled since then – but nothing serious. I’ve maintained my Twitter and my blog under the pretense that all was going well with my writing. It wasn’t.
I’ve pondered why I all but abandoned what seems (at least to me) to be a great story. At first I blamed procrastination and laziness. Then I blamed writer’s block – or whatever you want to call it. Them I felt overwhelmed by the whole mess. Now, I think I realize it was because I was still not writing for myself. I was criticizing and critiquing as if it were ready to go to a publisher instead of enjoying the writing process itself.
When I first started, I got pure pleasure from seeing the story unfold in my mind’s eye. Then, I think I started to get bogged down in the details and the questions.
“Is it good enough?”
“Am I good enough?”
“Is this word better than that word?”
“Will anyone want to read this?”
“Will this get published?”
I think it is time to go back to square one. To finish the story. To get Christine out of those woods in one piece. I owe it to her. I owe it to myself.