I’ve been victimized by the sleep-schedule-fucking nature of the Gabapentin and Soma I’ve been prescribed for wacky neck fun, stemming from the “mild” fender-bender from a few weeks ago. Since I can’t work now, I’m going to write.
Theoretically. I know I have talent, and I know I have great ideas… I just have a ginormous blockade in my mind that somehow always keeps me from finishing. It could be self-sabotage (I think I took a left in plotting when I should have taken a right, and immediately replot one or all of my novels until I can’t remember what any of them were about at the start), self-doubt (despite having my ego repeatedly shored up by anyone who’s read my writing, I still fear the Internet and its trolls), or just a good ol’ fashioned bout of A.D.D. to screw things up (I usually end up writing in a skewed angle, away from the main arc of the outline I’ve carefully constructed, and can’t find a way back, causing me to languish in a confusion of my own making.
But I have to finish something.
So I just sat down and started plotting out a book (that really should be finished already…) onto notecards again, as if it was the first time, putting asterisks on the cards where I might have already written the scene.
Next, I’m going after the gargantuan task of transcribing all of my handwritten scribblings onto a dinky iPad mini keyboard (which appears to be holding up admirably under the strain, so far).
After that, hopefully, it’s just a matter of smoothing over the cracks and then scraping together an advanced reader group…