Do you ever want to do something, but also not really want to do it?
That’s where I’m at.
I want to write, I really do. I want to work on my project and have it finished by the end of the month (so I can start something new in November.)
But I’m busy, and when I come home from work, I find that I don’t quite want to work more. Because writing is work, and I think any writer would tell you that.
As much as we want to believe that a good story will come pouring out in one perfect draft, it doesn’t. And even with a detailed outline, a cheaper-by-chapter guide, you still have to tap into your creativity to flesh each chapter out.
But, now I’m going to put it in writing, for anyone looking at my blog to see. I have a goal, I intend to wrap up an initial draft of this story by the end of October. But I’m not going to worry about word count, or how long it it. I’m just going to write each chapter until I run out of thoughts. Then I’ll move on to the next.
But still, for tonight, I’ll take a page from Margaret Mitchell and Scarlett O’Hara, and I’ll think about it tomorrow.
(OK, maybe I’ll think a little about it tonight.)