I make myself a cup of strong tea and try to avoid getting to the computer... I HAVE to write one hour, one simple, single hour, and I’m desperately trying to procrastinate... I call myself a writer, but I don’t write...
It is said that plots are easy, good ideas are dime a dozen... Sure, I have good ideas. I just wish there was someone who could write them into books. I wonder if my ideas ARE good... I wonder if there is no such thing as bad idea, just bad writers...
Sigh...
I want to write a book about the Otherkin, like vampires and werewolves, but not about vampires and werewolves.
[writing a couple of lines]
Oh, this is such crap! No-one wants to read this book!
It doesn’t matter. Just write.
[writing a couple of lines]
Oh dang! I just can’t keep writing... I can see these people in front of me.
[writing descriptions of the characters
Not even 1000 words... sigh. I’m supposed to be a writer. I’m supposed to tell a story about people whom I know, to introduce these people to others, to write a free essay... no-one will be able to tell me “that didn’t happen”, because I’m the only person in the universe who knows what happens.
[writing a couple of lines - more of speculations about what is going to happen in the story]
1712 words... Phew. But – the inspiration is over for now.
I really don’t need to write anything that will change the people’s views or make people love my characters... though if I want to make the other otherkin as beloved and desired as vampires and werewolves, there has to be sex and love. There has to be a certain MarySue quality to the text.
[writing a couple of lines]
It might be hard to think that I actually am suffering from writer’s block... I really don’t have the slightest idea where’s this story going. I know that writer’s block is overcome by writing, that about 1 of every 10 words might be something to keep. But I really... I’m good at creating characters and having ideas, but filling the pages between ideas and characters... that’s hard. I didn’t have that problem when I was younger. I could fill paper after paper with text, tell stories pages long. I know I could write about Link frolicking in the moonlit snowy forest, with his thick furcoat and big paws that work as snowshoes. I could try to make him a likable character. I like Link. I should be able to draw him so that others like him too.
[writing the outline of the story and a couple of lines]
It’s 1 pm the second day of nanowrimo and I’m ready to give up. I’m not a writer. I really don’t have the slightest idea of what to write. I don’t know how to lead the reader from one place to another.
[writing a couple of lines]
2837 words so far
I think I might feel better if I managed to write two more pages... DEEP SIGH!
[writing a couple of lines]
I don’t have enough black people in my story. Nor people of colour. Sigh, sigh, double sigh. I think I’m going to bed. SSSigh
I will NOT go on-line. I will NOT:
How difficult is it to write two more pages? How will I ever become the new Agatha Christie when I don't write? No-one needs to even read this book! I can write anything, start a new story in the middle of everything, make people fly, what ever! It’s my nanowrimo, the only goal is to get 50000 words on paper during November. I told Henric to ignore grammar and everything, and now I’m procrastinating myself! AAAAARRRRGHH!
[writing a couple of lines]
3062 word count...
[writing a couple of lines]
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