For the first time in a few weeks, I've actually felt motivated to write. Of course, feeling motivated, and succumbing to the impulse are very different things. As usual, I have been able to thwart my naissant urges.
Why do I fight writing? It's as though I'm fighting against success as much as failure.
Well, at least I've tentatively decided which story I want to write. Sort of -- maybe. It may end up that I merge two stories which will help to create layers and subplots. I don't think I'm ready for multiple perspectives and storylines, but I think I can manage concurrent converging events that will centre around two lead characters.
There will be more time for writing over the next few weeks. I thought of doing my plotting etc. during October, and then maybe doing the NaNoWrMo in November. I had planned to do it last year, but I didn't write a word. I set up for it and then just didn't start.
It's been like that for years -- putting off and putting off.
Then, I read books that are bland and boring, or innane and childish and I wonder how these people can be published writers. I used to stand in judgement of their writing skills, but now I realize that when I don't finish anything -- I can't even compare myself to them. They have dared to dream, and to complete what they started.
The best laid plans will stay blueprints without action. I know that, and yet I blog instead of writing. Sigh . . . .