Life always has a habit of getting in the way of writing. Stuff can get heavy quick, and halt your ability to work on writing. Or it can just grind you down to the point that writing just doesn’t seem feasible.
The trap there though is that writing is life.
At the moment my project is working on Kingdom of the Sun, trying to get a workable draft 2 into existence. Having said that, I’ve been doing that on and off now for the last few months. I’ve had to stop and take a step back and try to reapply myself. Even that though has come with its challenges. Whatever fears are stopping me from making any real progress are sure doing their work.
But I have to write. I have to get something sorted. If it’s not working on this draft, then what? It’s something I asked myself a few days back. I went back to the blank page, which to me isn’t a scary thing. I jotted down things. People. Thoughts. Putting together the kindle, the scraps of dry leaves and sticks, trying to get a flame to take.
It’s been a while since I did it. We as writers have to remember that no matter how life forces us to think on one thing or another, we have to continue to dream as writers. That guy in front of you when you’re walking back from the dairy, riding his bike despite the flat back tire. What’s his story? What about the girl texting tersely enough to miss the crossing lights?
If you write long enough, you really do end up writing what you know. Your own experiences spun into legend. Those daily observations crafted into hand carved characters.
I have to let myself do this a while, hopefully kick out a few short stories in the process. I fear lingering too long. I’ve managed to maintain this malaise now for a long time. Nothing I can’t control. I just have to see through it.