Saturday, January 24, 2009


I realized something this morning, or last night, or whatever. Recently, anyway. And it's that I'm getting sick of this book, which as you can imagine is not the sort of thing that makes you want to sit in front of the computer and write stuff. Because I can't keep to a writing schedule, it's taken way longer to finish than it should have. Because of that, I keep re-reading the same bits over and over, and getting bored by them.

I'm a few pages into Chapter 15, which is probably the third-to-last chapter in the book. I never finished 14, because I wrote myself into a corner and got stuck again. Instead I jumped ahead to the next bit, which was interesting me more at the time, and which is also not a good idea. I should probably go back and fix and finish 14, but first I should probably make myself sit here and write something, dammit, but it's hard, which is why it's taking a long time, which is why I'm bored with some of it.

Do other writers have that problem? Getting bored with their own stuff? It's art, so getting bored with it is a completely different thing from getting bored with your job in the office. Instead of working out the happenings in the somewhat complicated chapter 15, I'm thinking about Samantha's friends and if any of them would like a story of their own. I'm thinking about this thing I wrote 9 chapters for about ten years ago, and which sputtered to an inglorious halt when I realized it was all going wrong, and wondering how to re-write it and connect it to this book. I'm thinking about Gone and how violent it should or shouldn't be.

All of which would be fine, if it weren't preventing me -- or discouraging me, perhaps I should say -- from also thinking about this book.

Okay, I'm going now. I'm going to write stuff, then make another post tonight or tomorrow morning -- an honest post -- about what I did.

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