“Sometimes a thing gets broke, can’t be fixed.” –Kaylee, from Firefly
It’s been weeks since I wrote anything other than a blog or journal entry. The once-promising new novel manuscript is dormant. I’m not sure what happened. It just … petered out. I don’t know why. That’s what has appeared to have happened to the last two novel manuscripts I’ve tried to write.
I just don’t know what the hell is going on. I’m at a low point in self-confidence in my ability and, frankly, marketability.
It’s gotten to the point where I simply don’t know if I can write anymore. I don’t know if I can tell stories that entertain or matter. And that, frankly, is all I’ve ever wanted to do. If I can’t do that, life feels pretty pointless — at least from a “what do you want to do with your life” standpoint.
But today was a bright spot. I picked up one of the manuscripts and just started to write. I had some uninterrupted time, and managed to knock around 5,000 words out. That’s more than I’ve written in weeks. WEEKS! I’m not sure what to think of this, but I’m … let’s say I’m cautiously optimistic.
Here’s what happened today: I had uninterrupted time to write. I had NO internet. I had no TV, no DVDs, no CDs. No distractions. I had all day stretched before me, and I figured out I had a story I wanted to tell. It felt good to finally write something again. It’s been so long, I wasn’t sure I remembered how. I don’t know that I’ll remember how tomorrow.
It’s not writer’s block. It’s a crisis of confidence. I have no idea how to get past it. I wrote today. I’ll try to write tomorrow.
I can’t promise more than that.