On The Flood Gates
(Obsession du Jour, Part 2)
(Obsession du Jour, Part 2)
My little mini-funk that I've slipped into notwithstanding, I managed to write close to fifty pages today.
I know that doesn't sound like much, but I'd been stuck on the worst writer's block as of late. I don't have any idea if this was becasue I've been in a slump, or if it's part of the cause. The two have always been related, my writing and my overall day-to-day disposition; I have a lot of theories, but I'm still not sure as to what that relationship is exactly.
The morning after I wrote my last rant/whine, I was up by 5:30 to do my stretches. The air was cool, there was an ocean breeze, and not a cloud in the sky. Even so early, the sky was this wonderful deep blue, with just a rim of red-orange on the horizen through the trees. I stared into it as it grew brighter while I sat on my back deck, pulling and stretching out all the cramps of sleeping and not doing much for a few days.
I was feeling ambitious. I decided to try a bridge. That was two days ago, and it still hurts. I've started to stretch it back out, but damn, I got an injury from stretching! Stretching! I'm not even 30 yet!
Okay, back to the point at hand. Writer's block. Big time. I reached a point in my story that I had to get through, that I'd been putting off for a few weeks. Events had to occur in this story, they had to be believable, and the characters had to react the way these people would react. It just wasn't working. The events would become believable, but the characters wouldn't. Then the characters would react accordingly and the event seemed to preposterous, even for this story (and it's somewhat of a whopper).
I would stare at the screen. Write a sentence. Delete. Start again, like what I wrote, then have the need to adjust dozens of other passages to make it work. Then I'd scrap it and go back to where I started. If anyone who reads this also writes, then you know what I mean when it feels like mental constipation.
I know that doesn't sound like much, but I'd been stuck on the worst writer's block as of late. I don't have any idea if this was becasue I've been in a slump, or if it's part of the cause. The two have always been related, my writing and my overall day-to-day disposition; I have a lot of theories, but I'm still not sure as to what that relationship is exactly.
The morning after I wrote my last rant/whine, I was up by 5:30 to do my stretches. The air was cool, there was an ocean breeze, and not a cloud in the sky. Even so early, the sky was this wonderful deep blue, with just a rim of red-orange on the horizen through the trees. I stared into it as it grew brighter while I sat on my back deck, pulling and stretching out all the cramps of sleeping and not doing much for a few days.
I was feeling ambitious. I decided to try a bridge. That was two days ago, and it still hurts. I've started to stretch it back out, but damn, I got an injury from stretching! Stretching! I'm not even 30 yet!
Okay, back to the point at hand. Writer's block. Big time. I reached a point in my story that I had to get through, that I'd been putting off for a few weeks. Events had to occur in this story, they had to be believable, and the characters had to react the way these people would react. It just wasn't working. The events would become believable, but the characters wouldn't. Then the characters would react accordingly and the event seemed to preposterous, even for this story (and it's somewhat of a whopper).
I would stare at the screen. Write a sentence. Delete. Start again, like what I wrote, then have the need to adjust dozens of other passages to make it work. Then I'd scrap it and go back to where I started. If anyone who reads this also writes, then you know what I mean when it feels like mental constipation.
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