Figuring out what to write can be quite messy and time-consuming when you have drawers and drawers & files, upon file folders of story ideas you’ve collected over the decades. I promise myself (almost on a daily basis) I will commit to a project/idea and see it through to the end – hence the whole commitment thing – it’s about staying with it, persevering and not flaking out when 10 other great story ideas come calling. Still, I waver, I fail at this commitment thing. I think I’ve become my own enabler – I entertain these cool, out-of-the-blue sparks of imagination and allow them to hijack me away from my current project.
This act becomes a very convenient way to tell myself, “You’re still writing, brainstorming, plotting, whatever….you’re still engaged in that which they call the “writer’s life” right? After all, you are breathing life into this tiny spark of an idea with every character sketch, every plot point and every metaphor you invent.
In short, I have become my own worst roadblock. I don’t suffer from “Writer’s Block” – instead I am perpetually infected with the “Me Block.” Instead of doing what the great Margaret Atwood advises me to do in the afternoons as I listen actively to her Masterclass (on repeat almost daily) – instead of sticking to it….instead of listening to her words: “A word, after a word, after a word, is powerful,” I digress.
For now, I will march onward with my sketches, and brainstorming and plotting and imagining…but at some point…if I am to be a writer, I will have to choose one of these lovelies and just write, one word after another (a la Atwood) until the entire manuscript is complete – until I can type the infamous two words: The End. Until then, I am just playing at being a writer – and play I shall <3