I hate writing!

So, that’s not entirely true.  I say that the same way I say, “I hate my life.”  I don’t actually hate my life, but sometimes I hate parts of it.  And sometimes all those parts I hate get together all at once and I say “I hate my life,” but what I mean is that I hate the part I’m going through now.  Which is what I’m saying now.  I hate writing!

I follow a fair number of professional and semi-professional writers on Twitter.  Some of them like to tweet nightly about how much they wrote — 900 words, 1200 words, 1800 words.

I’m not that consistent.  I never have been.  Yesterday I sat down to write and ended up removing 600 words more than I added.  It wasn’t the words.  I think I wrote fine words — a rare confidence — but rather the content.  What I wrote was factually inaccurate.  Oh sure, I was writing what I knew of a story that appears in novels and even scholarly papers, but it didn’t happen in reality.  So it got cut.  Gone.

I’m used to big cuts.  I make a lot of them, usually because the words themselves are wrong.  What I’m not good at is replacing those words.  I struggle for each and every word.  (Blogging is different, lower stakes, more like a journal.)

When I did NaNoWriMo two years ago, I set a daily goal and worked constantly to meet it.  I went into it with a friend, and after a couple of weeks she was behind and I was at my goal.  Then, in the final stretch, she hammered out all the words she needed.  All in the course of a night she hammered out thousands of words.  It’s a feat I’m not capable of and I envy her for her ability to just open up on a page and pour out on it hopes and fears, action and drama, living characters.  Two years later, her story is still a work in progress, but mine has been abandoned.

I had to.  After two years and very little work on other things, it was still a bad story.

You don’t know your characters

You don’t know…”

And so it’s gone, and I hate writing.

Posted in Writing.

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