Angst and Inkstains: On Struggles and Stopping.

I'm sure that anyone who actually read this blog saw this coming: I've stopped writing "Wanderer's Lament." That's right, I've been stuck. I hit a wall (metaphorically) (and, due to the frustration, also literally) in my writings. I could blame it on any number of things, from a busy work schedule, to increased class-loads, to hand cramps, but the fact is, none of those are sufficient reasons. I stopped writing, because I stopped caring. See, I've been enduring something of an identity crisis as a writer, and as a person. I've been struggling lately with who I am, and trying to decide if writing is actually something I'm good at.

And the answer? well, it's a pretty simple one: I am exactly who i choose to be. and who I am choosing to be is an Author. It clicked, for real this time, that whether or not I'm GOOD at writing doesn't really matter at all. What matters is that I enjoy it, love it even, and that I'm striving to improve. and that's enough for me.

And now is when I admit that I lied, or told a half-truth at least: I haven't stopped writing "completely."

Wanderer's Lament is percolating, currently. It's stewing, fermenting, whatever. It's inhabiting notebooks, in snippets and pieces, and my head, in vast tracts of plans and ideas. I have to say, this is hard. As hard as I knew it would be, maybe harder. I'm already getting distracted by things. Other stories, other activities, keep getting in the way. But even so, I AM making progress, and so I will continue to update this, hopefully more frequently. Starting.... Now.

Right now, I'm facing (along with the previously mentioned issues) a plot crisis. namely: What IS the plot? I've got characters I like, worlds I'm in love with, and a narrative voice tailored to the story. Now I just need to get one minor detail wrapped up: the storyline. And I've been trying, trying like hell. But every time I come up with a good idea, it seems horrible mere minutes later.

What's the conflict in the book? I have one preliminary attack by my as-of-yet unidentified enemy, but no idea what their goal is.

I have no idea who the enemy is. or what his plans are. or where he is, where he's going, any of it.

But maybe i can use that, I keep telling myself. I mean, my characters probably don't know yet. They're in the dark, so shouldn't the reader be in the dark as well? In other words, what I'm saying is that I think I can just keep plowing on, writing until it clicks for ME.

But honestly, I'm scared to death of that. I mean, what if it doesn't ever click? What if, despite my meager abilities to convey scenes, I'm a horrible STORY writer? What if I never think of a decent plot? What if I DO come up with plots, but they're awful? What if I DON'T have what it takes?

Again, I'm forced to rely on my determination to try, even if i fail. I'm still writing, and I'm going to keep doing just that.

But seriously... damn this is hard