I wish I had writer’s block. That would mean I want to write, that I crave to smear graphite or splatter ink all over some unsuspecting blank paper. No, this is worse. Crueler. More sinister. A familiar foe, yes, but rarely seen in the days leading up to my favorite autumnal activity.
I have . . . writer’s blech.
I’m getting ideas. That’s not the problem. I am simply not inspired to do anything with them. Perhaps it was the Summer of Solaray Dawn that did me in. Possibly, it was the rewrite of ‘Til Undeath Do Us Part. Whatever is happening, I just don’t want to write.
It’s gotten so bad, I cleaned my microwave. Yes. My microwave, which was covered in more red sauce than a giant pan of cafeteria spaghetti, is now clean. I even used a toothpick to get the gunk out from the seams. It may appear to the cleanophiles that this is simply a good idea (which it is), but this is a dire warning sign.
I don’t clean. I write.
I have a waking nightmare that my home will be neat for Thanksgiving, and I’ll have a wordcount of two on November 30, consisting of “Chapter” and “One”. At midnight, it will be four, with a pathetic “The End” and slinking off to bed having failed beyond failure.
Okay, now that I’ve gotten over-dramatic and amused myself with said melodrama, I am actually dealing with an apathy toward writing. This is bizarre to me. I’m always writing or reading and editing. This isn’t something I’m generally worried about, because it doesn’t happen in October. Halloween is NaNoWriMo Eve to me, and November has been my favorite month for over a decade. My family knows it’s my month to git ‘er done in the writing arena. But what really is going on that I’ve got a case of the mehs?
Well, I am happy that I’m getting inspired. In the NaNoWriMo Forums, I’ve tossed out a few ideas. A couple are pretty good. I just don’t feel up to jumping in with both feet on them. And this disturbs me, because I feel like they’d be really rollicking stories which would have the potential to have me pull ideas for later novels which could become marketable. This year feels like a 2008 year, though I didn’t know in 2008 that my tale about a ghost investigation team would inspire a few major plot points in the Cryptid Series. What’s frustrating with that is my 2008 entry could get a quick clean-up and a December publishing release and possibly do okay as a stand-alone in the paranormal genre. The problem is that enough of it holds up the Cryptid Series, a series which is getting my heart and self put into it. I’d be plagiarizing my own ideas in public, and it would be obvious. However, and this is a big however, I might give it a bit of a nod in a later Cryptid Series book. So, my 2008 NaNoWriMo winner is getting set aside as part of the development of the Cryptid Series, never to see the light of day unless I die of something yucky and someone decides to publish everything I ever wrote–warts and all.
Snerk. Like that’s going to happen.
So, I’m getting ideas. I don’t officially have writer’s block, because I can drum up something good to write. If I had the yen to write, I’d have pages-in-waiting already. I’m just not feeling it. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get some of that excitement going by attending an event tonight. I’m also slightly anxious, since this is an off-season thing. I’m concerned that I’ll be walking into a well-established group and get the look that says I am an outsider and do not belong. That I’d better’d take that pink typewriter and skedaddle, because I am unwanted. Cast out. A pariah with ink on my fingers from winding my typewriter ribbon and calluses on my hand from putting my foolish ideas into a composition book.
Was the Dome Trilogy all I had in me? Did I expend my quota of novels within writing a silly seaside soap opera? Am I going to stumble and fall when I get to the last completed novel of the Cryptid Series and the outlines for the rest are sitting there like useless lumps of chewed gum discarded on sidewalks?
Well, I do know that even if I mess up NaNoWriMo 2014, my twelfth year, it will be okay. I’ve been tired before. I’ve put down the writing before. I’m just sad it’s happening now.
It’s a new experience. *laugh* Not failure. It and I know each other on a first-name basis, and we hang out quite a lot. It’s just that NaNoWriMo is my thing. I don’t want to lose my special thing. When life hasn’t gone my way, there was always NaNoWriMo to look forward to. I just don’t want to feel like I not only didn’t try my best, I couldn’t even get started.
Then again, I might be able to manifest 50K out of this concern. Write what you know, right?