Writing all the wrong things

I’ve actually been writing a lot this week, just not at all for my story.

I’ve whipped up two book review blogs and scheduled them (not crucial, but I like to write them as close to finishing the book as possible, so it’s all still fresh in my mind), and I’ve been writing quite a few personal little biography-type pieces as part of a bigger project of discovering what I want to do with my life.

I’m using Richard Bolles’ “What Color is Your Parachute” to map my skills, traits, passions, and more to uncover what my ideal job would look like, and from there where to look for it. It’s funny that, while mapping this, writing has cropped up several times, both as a passion and a skill. And yet, when it comes down to it, when it’s not part of my job, I’m terrible at giving it priority as a passion.

I talked a little bit before, I think, about how it can be difficult to feel up to creating your own world when you’re run down in reality. It’s so much easier to slip into a world of someone else’s making through reading, and I’ve been facing a good deal of that lately. I’m tired and worn down, and it’s easier to let someone else take me on an adventure instead of trying to construct one of my own. But, I am working on it. So long as I don’t let a whole week slide past without at least a few minutes writing, I’m not ready to write it off as a complete failure. I started. And if every week I make a point to start, I’ll get somewhere, eventually.

One of the hardest parts of writing, and one I haven’t quite ironed out yet, is figuring out where to put on the breaks. I’ve heard and tried various techniques, and I usually run into one of two problems.

First, I write until I’ve reached a stopping point. Things are wrapped up for the moment, I’ve finished a chapter, or I’ve run out of immediate ideas. The trouble here is that then, next time I go to write, I’ve got to find somewhere to start, something to motivate me to dive back in. I fall into this a lot. And you’d think that I’d eventually stop myself where I’ve got room to keep going, but I don’t.

Which leads us to the second, almost worse issue, in my opinion. I stop in the middle of a good scene, I know where it’s going from here, and it’s going to be so easy to dive back into the story tomorrow. Except that, by tomorrow, my good idea has fled, and I can’t quite remember where it was going. I know, it seems obvious. Just write myself a little note outlining where I’m going. But, it just never turns out as good as I thought it was going to. That’s not to say it’s good when I zoom through and write it all in one go, but at least the passion was there and I don’t have to second guess it until I get to editing (so, potentially never).

I’ve taken to making middle-ground detailed outlines for my stories, at least for several chapters ahead of where I am. This helps, to a degree, because if I get to a dead end, I can just start the next chapter. But, then I catch myself worrying about how long or short the chapter is. “Only two single spaced pages? That’s barely even a chapter! There should be more!”

So, it all circles back to grace, like I talked about before. Grace for the crappy writing, grace for the not writing, and now grace for the different writing. Grace for just thinking about writing, and then blogging about it, as though I actually did any significant writing. Which I suppose is fine. Only like five people read my blogs anyway, so, who’s really going to call me out on it? Certainly not my mom or grandma.

Sometimes, you just don’t feel up to creating. And sometimes, you need to focus on creating something a little more tangible for the moment. And that’s what I’ve been doing this week. Instead of mapping a story, I’ve been mapping myself, with the hope that soon I will reach a place where my writing can be a passion again, one I have both time and energy for. Until then, a couple short sessions a week (or even just one) will have to be a success for me. At least I showed up this week.

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