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lifeonqueen: (Misc - Caravaggio)
Sunday, February 4th, 2007 12:37 pm
Why must writing be so difficult?

Theoretically, I'm transcribing the pages I wrote in longhand last month. In reality, I'm trying to kill the tedium of the first scene and introduce some of the protagonist's motivations. It's turning really tell-y instead of show-y - is this any better than tedious? And I'm pages and pages behind on my page count for this week as switching my goal from writing every day to writing 20 pages a week (I write longhand in a composition book so 20 pages a week is a quite reasonable goal) caused a bit of a hiccup in my production. In other words, I need to write 18 pages today to make my goal (although I think I may give myself credit for the pages I type into Veronica Mac). For the coming week (which starts on Monday, not Sunday, in Cranky-land) is to write every day for a total of at least 20 pages a week. My ultimate goal is to write a novel this year: writing everyday, at least 20 pages a week, for the next 47 weeks.

I feel that this is a very reasonable goal, one completely within my grasp - even if actually committing that goal to 'paper' still makes me anxious. But I'm trying not to let the panic and the anxiety and the fearful 'ohmygodihavenotalent/imagination/abilityandnoonewilleverwanttopublishme' thoughts to drive me to throw away my pens and hide under my bed. This, unfortunately, is the hard part, harder than writing everyday or writing 20 pages a week - harder even than thinking up a plot or the right name for a character. For me, following my gut and finding the self-confidence to keep moving forward is the hardest part of writing.

Wish me luck.
lifeonqueen: (DC - THE DARK FUCKING KNIGHT)
Tuesday, January 9th, 2007 03:42 pm
Thinking critically about my life, the universe and everything has helped me realize that skipping lunch doesn't just give me a headache, it makes me very cranky. I'm probably the only person that this is news to but this afternoon I ended up working through the only time I could conveniently get away for food (stupid "I NEED THIS NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!" people - you don't need it now and if I give it to you now you'll only sit on it for the next hour) and I'm rightly pissed off.

Not just about having to work through my lunch but in general: a Wolverine without coffee kind of mood, where he guts Kitty Pride at the breakfast table for finishing the last of the milk. Probably not the best time to download grad school applications.**


*This title has nothing to do with anything except I want a pair of underoos.
**God, I'm never going to get in anywhere /intimidated anxious whine.***


***Gah! I just requested a prospectus from the University of East Anglia. Am I really going to do this? /metaphorical head between metaphorical knees