Blowing the Eraser's Dust

Paul is out of town and I was excited for that b/c when he’s out of town, I get a shit ton of work done. Not that he’s a hindrance or anything, it’s just I like him so much and we have so much fun together that I can’t focus 100% when he’s here. So, when he’s not here, I try to get as much work as I can done.

So, I’m working on this Knights story. I had hoped to get it done this month b/c I have other projects I planned to get done in May.

But I only have 13,000 words. And I still need triple that.

And today, I’ve sat on this chair since noon. It’s about to be 10 p.m. I haven’t really moved forward in the story despite my effort.

I think I need to find a system that works for me. Because on the one hand, if I just write the whole thing and then have someone beta read it later…it might take months before I’m done b/c my attention keeps wavering. But on the other hand, if I write and send every few chapters to be beta read, then I am motivated to hurry up and finish only I get seduced into switching hats from creating to editing. And editing is a bitch.

That’s what I’ve been doing today. On the same damn scene all day.

And it’s still not done.

I feel disheartened by the lack of progress. I want to scream.

I wish writing was as easy as painting. But this whole process feels like….like I’m drawing, then I erase what I’ve just drawn and redo it. Then I erase that, and try again. And again and again. Erase, re-draw, erase, re-draw…until the pristine white of the paper has smudged itself gray and I’ve worn the paper thin from erasing that there’s about to be a hole on it.

Right now, I want to crumple of this paper and throw it in the trash.

Actually, I’m so frustrated that I want to crumple of the whole dream and throw it in the trash.

Paul is on Skype right now, yelling at me. He said I promised to give this a year and I’m on week 11, ready to quit and that wasn’t part of the deal. I was supposed to give this my full effort.

And I swear, I am. But it’s like…the car is on 5-6 rpms uphill and you got as far as 3 miles in nine hours. I mean, c’mon, that’s bullshit.

He said I’m in a mood b/c I haven’t left this chair and I haven’t been sleeping well.

I don’t know. Maybe.

God, I hope so.

I get that writing is hard. That’s why not everyone does it. Or they do, but not to completion. There’s a shit ton of half-finished manuscripts in the world. I want out of that club.

The level of self-loathing I have right now is insane. I’m tryin to picture myself as a five year old and speak to that kid but the kid won’t stop crying.

Yes, you’re going to say I’m being too hard on myself. I should have more self-compassion. But today, I’m all out of patience. Shit, maybe I just need to drink wine and call it a day.