Miss Snark says that an author keeps a blog only to avoid writing.
She's right.
The word document is open. I've typed maybe 600 words. And I'm not writing. I just don't care. Okay- I do care. A little. But I have new ideas popping up and I really want to try something different and and and and...... I've heard this symphony before.
This is the "I hate first drafts isn't there something better in my head?" symphany. The one that starts to play when I realize that what I'm writing is a FIRST DRAFT rather than the beautiful, polished, poetic polished draft that I actually want to read.
I can blame some of my phsycotic behaviour on playing editor at a college newspaper for several years. I look at all drafts like fodder for my red pen.
And part of it is that I know what I like to read and I can skip genre details and tell you right now I hate reading first drafts.
The problem is that to get past the first draft stage you have to actually, ya know, write the first draft.... Footsteps of doom. This is the part that kills me. This is where I want to shrivel up, die, and quite writing. And this is why, at midnight and knowing I have to be up early, I'm going to stay awake and get another chapter pounded out.
Maybe tomorrow night I'll chain myself to the desk, turn off my cable link to the outside world, and just write the final 10 chapters ina flurry of absolute insanity.
Then I can push the first draft under the door and play with my new beautiful shiny ideas before going back and editing.
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