I’m stuck. I can’t do it. It’s not working. I don’t know why I ever thought I could do it. I should just stop harbouring such ludicrous ideas and give up. It’s a waste of my precious time. Everyone will laugh at me because I thought for a few minutes that I could have a chance at something even though it was patently obvious to anyone with half a brain that I was on a hiding to nothing. They probably are laughing already. I should stop telling everyone what I’m doing anyway. It just makes my inability to do it worse. What was I thinking?!!!
In short, it’s not going well……
I’ve been messing about with the start of this rewrite for three weeks. I’m clear about where I’m going. I have the story in my head and I know how it’s going to slot into the main story ark. I’m not short of things to say. And it’s exciting, this bit of the story. It’s powerful stuff….
Or it would be if I could only work out how to tell it because, sure as eggs is eggs, the way I’ve tried to do it so far is not good. It’s not good at all. I write a bit. It seems ok as I’m working and the story races along but then when I come back to it later, it makes me cringe. That’s not good is it? Cringing at your own work!
So what do I do? Should I plough on telling the story and hope that as I go I’ll stumble across something that I like and can nurture into something stronger? Or do I tinker about at the edges experimenting and thinking but getting nowhere? I don’t like either plan.
So I’m left, wasting time. A blog post, for example. Some research into what they wore. What was Number 1 back then anyway? What were we all watching on the telly?
Of course, I know the answer to my problem. I have to keep experimenting until I find what it is I’m looking for. Whilst I’m desperate to just dive in and tell my story, that would be the wrong thing to do. I must be patient and keep trying until I’ve found something that feels right. And in the meantime, I have to remember that I love to write and not lose heart.
No one said it would be easy…. Deep sigh.