Sometimes, writing is like breathing – it just happens, but on occasion, it’s like pushing through the 23rd mile in marathon – laborious and painful. Every time I begin a project, I feel like a kid on Christmas morning opening presents, but soon after, when the dreadful middle rounds the bend, I feel like that same kid on Christmas evening, morose because all the fun is over. The solitary nature of writing doesn’t help. No one wants to hear about your half-completed manuscript that’s stuck in the mud somewhere in the depths of your computer files. Such work is uninteresting since even you, the creator who adores it, found it unworthy of completing.
The good news is that I’ve completed more than I have not, but there are a couple of manuscripts that sit half finished in my files. Re-visiting them feels like walking through a ghost town of half-constructed houses. I keep telling myself that I will go back and finish them someday, but that day has yet to arrive. What happened to them? Why did I abandon them like one would abandon an overheated, inert car on the side of the freeway?
The answer lies in the creative storm that begat them. Oftentimes, an idea strikes and the concept of the story takes on a life of its own. The characters write the story themselves. I become the characters in many ways and feel my way through the story. I feel a connection with the character that builds on and keeps the momentum going, but if I suddenly lose that connection, the story begins to drag until I get to a point that it no longer makes sense to keep working on it. I need a break.
My very first novel, one that I began writing in 1997, fell victim to this aberration. That novel still sits in the cob-webbed corner of my files unfinished. I fell in love with the idea on a drive from Atlanta to Memphis one evening and began writing in earnest once I returned home. This went on for weeks until I suddenly hated my main character. I felt he was too harsh and cynical and all I had written reflected this degenerative attitude. It felt like too much work to re-write the pages I had written, so I saved it one last time and put it on the shelf. Over the years, it has gone mostly untouched, but occasionally, I take it off the shelf, blow off the layer of dust that has accumulated and re-read it in hopes that I will find a way to make it worthy of my time. I’ve dabbled with the story, but it remains much the same as it was two decades ago.
Most recently, I had another novel that got stuck in the mud. I haven’t decided if or when I will get back to it. The story bogged down in the middle, and I realized I was trying to do too much with it. I love the concept and hope I can figure out how to make it work, but I haven’t touched the story in a year. Once I finish Into the Caldera, I may go back to it. Or maybe not.
It’s easy to get enamored with the latest new idea and my mind can get distracted and off-task when it comes to my current work. I tend to go with the flow when it comes to writing – write whatever strikes my fancy. This approach leaves a lot to be desired when I’m trying to finish a novel. It’s even harder to deal with when I’m in the editing phase as I am now. When I should be hunkering down and editing, I’m often writing other things. Editing is boring and I certainly need to break the monotony with some other creative outlet, but editing requires focus, too.
I take solace in the fact that I still enjoy the process overall. I’ve been focused on my regular writing regimen for five years now. I’m still learning a lot and I’m still developing as a writer. Next month, I will attend the first residential writing workshop in a six-month program designed to help me improve my writing. I don’t expect it to rid me of these lulls in the creative process, but it may provide me with some ideas to help me get past them.