It’s a cycle..

Not a bicycle, because that would just be silly. No, no, writing is a cycle. And whomever said it was easy should just be shot. Right between the eyes. For being a damn, dirty liar.

That's more like it.
That’s more like it.

Just like getting sick, writing seems to come in turns with me. Once again, I find myself stuck with a story I so desperately want to write. And to change. And to write. And to change.

This idea would be awesome!

Oh! So would that!

Oh, and this too! Don’t forget this!

And that!

And that thing over there!

Just make the voices stop.
Just make the voices stop.

It’s a pain. It really, really is. The Nightly-Edition saw NaNoWriMo as its saving grace. I haven’t touched the story since, in favour of trying to get Grimmauld at least written down. Which, while a great thing for the Nightly-Edition,  is not so good for me.

I don’t want to wait almost another year just to put down another story. Not that I want to throw out one book every month, either, but at least having a base from which to edit on would be nice. And was the original goal with Grimm. I’d sit at my computer every chance I got or at my notebook, and write. Whatever came out, came out, didn’t matter what.

And yet, once again, here I stand on the cusp of failure and depression.

Or maybe I’m just thinking too much.

So many ideas playing in my head. Maybe I can do it one way and maybe I can do it another. Do I want the story as an allegorical novel for Heaven and Hell, or do I keep it as is? Is Grimm going to get steampunked? Should she? Or should she stay the way she is? Should she travel?

Do I write two novels and see which one I like better? Should I write two novels, or should I just take a step back and leave the story alone for a while until I get my head clear?

God help me I don’t want to do another bunch of blog posts talking about Grimm like I did with the Nightly-Edition. I love my books, I do, but there is only so much you can whine before people start plotting clever ways of putting duct tape over your mouth. Or worse.

I told myself I could do it again. I told myself I could write a damn book and edit it later. I did it with the Nightly-Edition, I can do it with this one, by God!

So optimistic, and yet so hard to do.

Yeah. No. Close, but no cigar. It’s like running on a treadmill. You run all this way, these many miles, and yet you’re still in the same place.

So, this is where I reach out to you, my writing friends. How do you deal with this sort of situation? Have you dealt with this sort of situation and, if so, can ya help a sister out?



Just a little help.