Push Through The Pain

Scattered. That is how I feel today. It's been almost 2 months since I last worked on my book. I'm terrible, I know. I was just SO burnt out after NaNoWriMo that I really needed time away from it. Add to that the holidays, life, and general laziness, and that's why I find myself here today.

I have come to realize that I have certain patterns when it comes to my writing.

Generally, I get really excited about new ideas, do all the research, brainstorming and such in a flurry of activity. And then I stall. Usually, it is short-lived, until I can get over Perfect First Sentence Syndrome long enough to just get something down on paper, already. Then, I am usually fine. Of course, it helps to disconnect from the internet.

Then, about halfway through, I stall again. Convinced every word sucks, that the piece is littered with clichés, that my characters are nothing more than one-dimensional paper cut-outs falling flat on their faces, and sardonically laughing at the thought of anyone would ever want to read the steaming pile I've just sweated over. The next stage of my process is to panic, mope, and seriously consider scrapping the entire project completely so I can start over.
Usually, that is when the avoidance part of my routine kicks in. I ignore, avoid, do not make eye contact, and generally divert all thinking away from the project in hopes that it will grow a brain, hand and enough creativity and wit to write itself.

Eventually, I get so sick of my loathsome self that I just say, "Fuck it! Stop being such a baby!", and then I sit down and push through the pain.