Posted by : Wendy B Wednesday, 18 February 2015
I’m pretty sure I said something about writing in my resolution this year. Well, I know I did. But I probably said something specific about working on my personal projects. The ones that have been sitting in my head for over a decade, twiddling their poor little thumbs. Welp. It’s mid-February now – which is still quite early by resolutions standards – but I’m well into the phase of “Why am I not working on this yet?”
At least I have been writing. I adore the words that I’ve spilled for Women Write About Comics, and enjoy sharing my bibliophilia over at The BiblioSanctum. I’ve written a review for Deadshirt’s Year of Star Wars and might write some more if inspiration strikes. Last year’s big writing projects for clients are as complete as they can be, under their respective constraints, and I’ve learned a lot throughout the processes.
But other than a short fiction piece, some flash fiction, and a bit of editing work, I’m horribly stalled on my own writing projects.
Personal motivation sucks.
Part of the problem is that I have too many ideas and all of them are well into the progress stage. Some of them are half written. Some of them need to be rewritten. Excuse #1 is that I am a multi-tasker and I like to be able to jump around from idea to idea when one isn’t working out, but the lack of focus really isn’t helping. Obviously. I work best with deadlines and marching orders, but it’s so easy to roll over and look the other way when I’m the one in charge.
Problem #2 is finding a proper place and time to write. I’ve got my bedroom and I’ve designated Sundays as my don’t interrupt my I’m writing and/or reading days. My cat understands and will sit quietly with my during these moments (she even pets me. It’s very encouraging). But my family still has trouble with the concept, though it’s not like I’m going to turn away breakfast in bed and hot tea and warm hugs. There’s still all the noise outside my door, though, and that constant, intrinsic need to be mom even if my kids are old enough to take care of themselves and there is another parent in the house.
A friend told me about a famous author who would put on his hat and coat every morning, and go to work from nine to five, just like everyone else. Except, while they were all heading to the office etc., he would go straight downstairs to the basement to write. That sounds like heaven to me. Assuming his writing basement had a nice comfy seating area, a good writery soundtrack, and a healthy supply of Chinese food, snacks and boxes of wine. I would love to have an interruption free writing zone, but that takes us to problem #3: unless I’m motivated enough, I’m going to find all sorts of ways to be my own worst enemy.
None of this is special snowflake. I’ve read enough writing blogs to know I’m not unusual. And I've read enough writing blogs to know all the different ways to find your writing space and make it work for you (or you work for it).
So I really just need to figure out how to get my head in the right place. Pick one story and focus. Make the time and place. And get writing. One word at a time.