Writing is hard. It’s a very cyclical thing for me. It moves along in stages. What those stages are, how long they last, and whether or not I recognize them as they’re happening all vary on a case by case basis. Right now I’m in the JFC everything is crap stage. It happens. I’ve spent a lot of time staring at my writing folder—like I do—trying to discern what I should be working on. Truth…
Wherein Sara babbles, at great length, about the writing projects currently burning holes in her brain. In other words, none of it will make any sense to anyone but me, and even I probably won’t understand any of it either. … … … There are times I sit and stare at the projects sitting in my writing folder and find myself wondering what the hell all these code names mean. So many of them have…
I can write pages and pages of dialogue (and the occasional narrative) and find most of it to be crap. Or what I perceive as crap. Somebody else might think it’s okay. Then I go back and read, and reread…and reread…and then something stands out that I actually like and it sticks in my brain and I find myself wondering, “Why can’t it ALL be like that?” But I guess I’ll take what I can…
I’ve had a headache since Thursday night. I’d very much appreciate it if Bob would drill a hole in the side of my head to release some pressure, but he refuses to do it. Whatever, dude. What. Ever. It was probably a bit overly ambitious of me to start three new writing projects in the span of a week, but I’ve written a collective 24,000 words on those three projects so shut-up. Sure that means…
