This past month has been rough, writing-wise. I’ve felt stuck in the current book, like I’m writing in circles. Or, as the case may be, not writing in circles. It’s incredibly frustrating, knowing that I’m about 2/3 of the way through and not being able to push forward. Frustrated with myself, frustrated with the process, frustrated with the characters for not figuring their own lives out already.
There’s never a good reason for writer’s block, is there? I often go so far as to say I don’t really believe in writer’s block — at the end of the day, you can always sit down and write something, even if it’s crap. For me, being stuck feels more like… moping. Like I’m a kid who should know better but keeps doing it anyway.
The uniform thing about writer’s block — it’s hard to get out of. Hard to break that cycle. But earlier this week I met with two fellow writers who pushed me, prodded me, forced me to think bigger and dig deeper (more on that next week). And you know? I think I’m ready to stop feeling sorry for myself (“WAAAH WHY WON’T MY BOOK WRITE ITSELF?”) and just write the damn thing.
I re-stumbled upon this quote from Chuck Wendig, which I’ve posted here before, but pretty much sums it up:
Whatever happens, stop blaming other people for your failures. Stop complaining. Stop dicking around. Start doing that thing you want to do and do it with all the love you can fling into it. – Chuck Wendig
Indeed. Indeed. This weekend I miraculously have zero plans on the calendar, so you know what that means? I’m going to sit my ass down and get through this roadblock.