So I entered National Novel Writing Month - where you are supposed to create a 175 pg, 50, 000 word novel in the month of November. I started out pretty good, whipped out my first 1000 words in one evening. Thought I could probably get there if I spent at least one day a weekend writing. Sure...no problem.
Well - one small problem. I'm writing, that's not it. But the story has no form, no plot, no hook. It's just words!! I keep writing...waiting for the inspiration to hit...and people keep telling me that I have to just keep writing and not edit and not worry about the rest. I'm trying! Really I am. But so far it feels pretty much like masturbation. I do it because I have to. (I mean, I can't not write - and yes I know that's a double negative - see I can't stop editing even here!) I do it because there is some pleasure in releasing all these ideas that have been banging around in my head. But in the end I feel pretty empty because it just doesn't feel like the real thing.
Probably more information than you wanted about me. But it had to be said.
I love writing. I love the satisfaction of finding just the right word to define the color of the sunrise when I'm waiting for my bus in the wet November morning. I love the feel of words on my tongue. I love the release of a perfectly articulated idea and seeing others warm to it.
Maybe I just haven't found the right...toy...to play with. And in the meantime, just keep doing it. Thanks for listening.