Fear of... something.
- 59,003 words (if poetry, lines) long
- 125.50 hrs. revised
Finally cracked open the novel again and made a couple more inches' progress. I'm at the bit where Brian first realizes that his little breathing problem has something to do with heading east, and I feel a little like him, moving forward at a snail's pace and fighting myself the whole way. Now, he's going to have to turn back because there ain't nothing you can do about being a fish out of water except head back to the sea. But me, I've gotta keep crawling.
I have a whole four pages to go until I reach the end of Chapter Three. And the closer I get, the slower I go. It's like I'm afraid of finishing, because then I'd have to actually submit writing to someone who'll read it and maybe like it and invite me to attend a workshop where they'll help me make it better. Horrors!
What the hell is this? Y'all other writers out there, you know what I'm talking about. And if you're all like, "Not me, thank you very much, I can't not write, I deny the existence of writers' block, I don't know what your problem is at all," then, good for you. I'm not talking to you. Shut up. The rest of y'all, y'all know, right? What is this, fear of success? Fear of completion? Fear of leaving the safety of one's nice, comfortable rut?
It's probably time to reread Victoria Nelson' On Writer's Block. I seem to recall her having something to say about these things: the block that comes from unconsiously savoring the limitless possibilities of incompletion; the block that comes from reluctance to commit; the block that comes from fear of finishing the work. And, wise writer that she is, she also has a few things to say about the tendency to mentally excoriate oneself for not having written today, and thus make it even harder to write the next day. I'm really good at that mental excoriation stuff.
It's almost 4 Aye Emm. Time for a nap or something.