I started the year thinking I would have my Shabazz collection (80,000 words) complete by December, or at least nearing completion. The idea was to write a long story each month/six weeks, and when I did sit and write it went well. I just didn’t sit and write all that often. Was it because of my kids? Have none of those critters. My day job? Hmm, set my own hours. No peace in the apartment? Just me here.
A tally sees that I wrote perhaps 15,000 words of fiction in 2015, which includes one complete story and a long one a little over halfway through. Maybe I’ll write another 3,000 words before the year is through, wild challenge!, and have two complete stories.
It’s not writers’ block – the words have come easily and the ideas are there. It’s not a lack of belief in my talent (well nothing beyond what’s reasonable). So what is it?
Partly it’s too many interests/projects – fitness, music, event organizing, Galleon, social networking, social life. Partly it’s a mind that likes to idle, drift, wander. Partly it’s the Internet. Maybe more than partly. Certainly it’s all the editing work, its demands, and sometimes it’s the lack of editing work. The worry that comes with that, the unpaid bills, the uncertainty.
I used to think I needed a quiet place to write, so I began writing at night. I hated writing at night. Eventually I rented a small office space/studio and still I didn’t write daily. So I started sleeping at the office, and discovered that yes, I’m a morning writer and that instant coffee and roll-out mattresses suck. Later I had my own apartment. Sometimes I wrote, sometimes for months on end.
And then months without writing. That’s what happens now. I think it’s just the way I am. But if I’ve learned anything it’s that the quiet has to be in my head, so I’ll work on that in 2016.
Good. I was hoping I’d have the solution by the end of this post.
Never mind that’s the same solution I found last year. And the year before…