Lots Of Ideas...

 But actual progress? Yeah, that hasn’t been happening.

This week has been a slog. I feel like I’ve been wading through chest high quicksand, trying to find my footing, trying to reach a safety.

So, now that it’s friday, what have I actually done? Well, I’ve written half a short story for what might become a short story collection, I started (and now scrapped) a new idea that was really cute for a while, but I just can’t get behind it. I’ve made it to a thousand words, I and I’m not enjoying writing it. And if I can’t find enjoyment in it, what hope does any future reader have?

I wrote a couple hundred words for old fanfic. It’s so close to being finished, I’ve just been putting it off because I hate endings. I’m really going to miss the original character I created for that story. He has to die, no question, and I always planned for him to die. I just, don’t want to write the death scene.

At the start of the week I worked some more on Trial (and upcoming project that I am excited for) and the next Corey Culpepper story (again, I’m looking forward writing and finishing that too.)

So, why have I been struggling?

I wish I knew. Though, I have a feeling it might be related to the fact that I’m now using another word tracker.

I have - a personal word count tracker, a group word count tracker (that some discord friends and I use), a monthly tracker and now a project word count tracker!

This new tracker let’s me input each project and the word count for that project and it comes with fancy charts.

(It should be noted that I did not create the fancy tracker. Kate Cavanaugh a writer from Youtube, created and shared the tracker.)

I love lists. I do. I have 2019 and 2020 words counts pinned to the office wall, so I tick off every day that I write more than both years, pushing my word count up higher than ever before.

Is that producing better writing? I hope so, but then again, the issue of quantity vs quality raises it’s head. Sure, I can write more words, but at what cost? And then, of course, there are my peers. I see my friends writing and getting out their projects and I think ‘Why aren’t I keeping up with them?”, “Why aren’t I releasing more books, writing quicker, faster?'

And then I mentally slap myself for being stupid. Logically I know we all write at own pace, and that not everyone can write super fast. I know that. I do.

I still question why I can’t do that. I went to bed at 7pm on Thursday. I had a headache that wouldn’t quit, I felt tired, and sick and so I stopped writing, listened to my body and slept. Which meant I didn’t come close to hitting my writing goals for that day.

And here’s the issue I have with the idea that you have to write everyday. The people who say that also say, ‘I know, you have work, kids, time is an issue, but -,'

But nothing. Kids, work, those are kinda important. You can’t write if you don’t pay the rent, the electric and gas bills. Your kids aren’t gonna like you if you don’t pick them up for school, because you were at home writing. You can’t write if you’re sick.

A few years ago I dislocated my knee. It sucked. I wasn’t allowed to sleep in my own bedroom, because bending my knee to walk upstairs was too painful. I spent nearly six months sleeping on the sofa, crying whenever I had to try to make to the bathroom, unable to have a real bath because I couldn’t get in without being in pain and unable to shower because I couldn’t stand on that knee. To this day, I have a walking stick nearby for bad days and my knee still ‘pops’ and ‘rolls’ around in it’s socket. It’s not fun.

The point being, I was in so much pain, taking so many painkillers that for me, writing was impossible. I spent most of my days watching Markiplier play Five Nights At Freddy’s. If I had even tried to write during that time, it would have been a drug filled mess.

Along with the four writing trackers, I also have notebook that I track my word count with and I write down my final word count for the day in my diary.

I think I’m doing too much. I think I’m becoming too obsessed with the number of words I’m writing and forgetting the most important thing.

Writing is the greatest thing in the world. It’s better than movies, it’s been than - mature grown up activities - , it’s better than ice cream on a hot day.

Or maybe I’m just stuck in a writing rut and I’m other thinking everything.

That could also be the case.

I wrote in my journal that I wanted to be kinder to myself this year and three months in I am already failing in that mission. So maybe I just needed this week to be a reminder of that mission statement. Be kind. To myself, to my goals, to my ambitions.

Everything has it time. And really, I gotta remind myself of what I actually want. Do I actually want to be releasing stories to be self published right now? No. actually. I want to build up 3-4 finished stories, so I can do staggered every other month releases. So that means, finishing those 3-4 stories first. I can’t get ahead of myself, if I don’t get ahead of myself.

Ok, I know I am not making sense and that’s fine. I have a plan. My plan is to stick to the plan and cheer everyone on. I am so excited for everything my friends are doing and they’re doing so incredibly well. I am so, so, so proud of each of them. I honestly have the best friends anyone could ever ask for. It’s more than I deserve. I’m so lucky to have them in my life. They keep me grounded and sane.

Without their love and support I would not have published anything this year or last. I would still be dreaming, wondering what it’s like and wondering if I had the talent and guts to do it.

I did and I do! 

It’s time to stop rambling. Until tomorrow.