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The biggest obstacle of all
May. 26th, 2003 06:24 pmI'm feeling wild and frantic like a cornered animal. It comes from trying to change boring, comfortable routines. I made a commitment to myself and it's starting to drive me crazy.
A few days ago I decided to start writing a book manuscript. Most of the material would be drawn from my handwritten journals, so I don't need to generate new ideas. I have time. I gave myself a deadline of completing the draft by the end of June.
Of course I have encountered many problems, but the biggest obstacle of all, and the one under which all the other obstacles seem to fall, is my own inner resistance.
I feel ill-informed because I haven't done enough research, but this is really an excuse not to start writing. I want a better outline, but that is another excuse. I'm convinced that the end product won't be worth publishing; but that's just another excuse not to start writing.
I know what I need above all is to spend time at my desk and keep the pen moving. It's the only way to keep the flow of ideas going. It forces me to face the problems and address them instead of just worrying about them. That's why I made the commitment and want to stick to it no matter what trash comes out the other end of the process.
In some ways the commitment isn't working. So far I haven't spent as much time as I need to if I plan to complete the book before July.
In other ways it is working. I have ploughed through a couple old journals excavating material. The project keeps hanging over my head because I put it there. This is a new experience, and it's what I need.
And on Wednesday I wrote the first draft of an entire first chapter.
It is crap. It isn't long enough. It makes no sense. It jumps from one place to another without reason. It is dull, stupid and shitty. I don't know where it came from and I don't know where it's going. I hate it.
I don't want to write another awful chapter. This afternoon I came home from a drive with Chas, tidied my desk, sat down and started reading old journals, then I freaked out. I lay down on the floor and kicked my feet. I can't stand this process.
I don't want to do this!
I got off the floor and did some dishes. In the middle of that I left dishes in the sink, came and wrote this LJ entry because I feel desperate and miserable. The only reason this hasn't drifted into the pile of forgotten ideas is because I don't want it to.
That's why I'm telling people about it; my face-to-face friends and here on LJ. I'm holding myself accountable.
I have to keep going. The only way to start finishing projects is to start finishing them. The flow has to begin somewhere. Nobody else will make me do it.
This is, after all, what I want to do with my life. All this resistance is a lifetime accumulation of cynical voices telling me it's a waste of time.
The voices are bad. Writing is good.
I can do this, can't I?
A few days ago I decided to start writing a book manuscript. Most of the material would be drawn from my handwritten journals, so I don't need to generate new ideas. I have time. I gave myself a deadline of completing the draft by the end of June.
Of course I have encountered many problems, but the biggest obstacle of all, and the one under which all the other obstacles seem to fall, is my own inner resistance.
I feel ill-informed because I haven't done enough research, but this is really an excuse not to start writing. I want a better outline, but that is another excuse. I'm convinced that the end product won't be worth publishing; but that's just another excuse not to start writing.
I know what I need above all is to spend time at my desk and keep the pen moving. It's the only way to keep the flow of ideas going. It forces me to face the problems and address them instead of just worrying about them. That's why I made the commitment and want to stick to it no matter what trash comes out the other end of the process.
In some ways the commitment isn't working. So far I haven't spent as much time as I need to if I plan to complete the book before July.
In other ways it is working. I have ploughed through a couple old journals excavating material. The project keeps hanging over my head because I put it there. This is a new experience, and it's what I need.
And on Wednesday I wrote the first draft of an entire first chapter.
It is crap. It isn't long enough. It makes no sense. It jumps from one place to another without reason. It is dull, stupid and shitty. I don't know where it came from and I don't know where it's going. I hate it.
I don't want to write another awful chapter. This afternoon I came home from a drive with Chas, tidied my desk, sat down and started reading old journals, then I freaked out. I lay down on the floor and kicked my feet. I can't stand this process.
I don't want to do this!
I got off the floor and did some dishes. In the middle of that I left dishes in the sink, came and wrote this LJ entry because I feel desperate and miserable. The only reason this hasn't drifted into the pile of forgotten ideas is because I don't want it to.
That's why I'm telling people about it; my face-to-face friends and here on LJ. I'm holding myself accountable.
I have to keep going. The only way to start finishing projects is to start finishing them. The flow has to begin somewhere. Nobody else will make me do it.
This is, after all, what I want to do with my life. All this resistance is a lifetime accumulation of cynical voices telling me it's a waste of time.
The voices are bad. Writing is good.
I can do this, can't I?
