Today marks the day that I have finally accepted my partial writers block. It is nearing almost two weeks now that I have not written in or even looked at my manuscript. It is a painful feeling like when you stub your toe on the bottom of the refrigerator and you know you are missing part of your nail but you don't dare investigate. That's what it feels like to have a neglected manuscript looming around in your brain.
Not to long ago I actually had a break through with my plot line and finally had locked in my brain what the ending would be! It was an amazing feeling, I have to say. I knew where I was going with it, the characters were poised to strike the pages with purpose and determination. All I had to do was write it! But then a black cloud of death rolled over my happiness and left me with nothing. The idea was there, but the motivation was not. My subconscious is violently clutching onto my story while all I can think about is how to avoid sex and get to bed earlier. My brain will not focus on the writing, it is holding up a picket sign in protest refusing to grant me motivation. I hate you brain! You never worked right anyways.
Even though I have the gold to FINISH my book, I have yet to use it. I am at a loss. This makes me painfully sad. Much like the prior 27 years of my life.
The good part about all this is that I think about writing everyday. Which is odd for me because I usually forget about things and move on to more depressing matters, but not with my manuscript. Its like having a stalker that your always worried about seeing...that is what my ms is to me. A stalker with bad grammar.
However, I have some faith that I will open that word document again and chip away at it. I have to. I have fully convinced myself that if I cannot finish writing a novel then I am truly worth nothing, even if it never gets published, it has to be done, it is screaming to be finished. I will never finish anything for the remainder of forever if I can't do this. It you knew me at all you would know that I am self-deprecating and to push myself to do anything I must first hurt my own feelings. It is a strange and vicious cycle, but one that is proven to work.
Bucket list item#2- Finish a novel.