Starts

1.

I like to start things.

Starts are fun. They are bright and shiny and new and they make you feel all happy and excited.

2.

I love to start new stitching projects. So I am having a 2010: The Year of Starts.

I aim for at least 12 starts, but I can start anything and everything I want. I have at least 12 projects kitted up (meaning that all I have to do is put the fabric on the frame and go go go!). That is how much stash I have accumulated over the past few years.

I have begun my January start, which is Sampler Cove’s Taking Flight.

Tomorrow, I shall start something new.

3.

I have discovered that I don’t enjoy starting new writing projects nearly as much, however.

Writing projects, especially big writing projects,  require mental preparation. A lot of mental preparation.

I used to like starting them. But that was because I didn’t do any mental preparation – I could and would literally start something new just because of a pretty new sentence. I never, and haven’t, finished anything.

And that absolutely has to change.

1-2-3

The Plan:

1. Write first thing every day for half an hour.

2. Email to sooper-sekrit account.

3. Rinse and repeat.

1.

Exams are over.

Immediate metamorphosis into social butterfly.

2.

Unwriting to commence as my Model has collapsed, partially due to lack of brainwork and mostly due to an attack of the Heebie-Jeebies.

Milestone.

My novel has reached the 10k mark, and according to WriteWay, ahead of schedule as well.

Courage

1.

I need some.

In fact, I think I need loads of it.

2.

I’m seriously contemplating Dutch courage. Except I don’t think it’s good for me to do stuff that could lead to addictions.

I already have an obsessive personality. If I add addictive to that, I think the rest of my life will just go down the toilet.

3.

I have been driven to this because I’ve realised my barrier to finishing this book is me.

I mean, I’ve always known that. It’s generally true of everything one wishes to accomplish.

4.

The difficulty that I mentioned a few days ago has become clearer to me, if not at all simpler to resolve.

I have the ‘small story’. By this, I mean the storyline of the characters in the novel. But I haven’t yet been able to put the ‘big picture’ into writing.

If the small story is what’s on the chessboard, then the big picture IS the chessboard.

Don’t ask me how I play chess without a chessboard because I will hurt you.

5.

I sent a brain-dribbling-out email to Nadia a few months back, maybe late summer last year, and looking it over, I’ve realised that all that was in there was the small story.

I know I have the big picture. It’s In My Head.

It just never appears to translate into what’s on the screen. Or if it does, it’s buried so deep even I can’t see it.

I acknowledge that this has always been a problem for me. How else would I have achieved partial manuscripts with only 2 characters?

But I’ve never felt this as keenly, maybe because I never had enough of the small story to realise that there was still stuff lacking.

6.

So back to courage.

I need some, I think, to get the big picture out of my head and in words.

Doesn’t matter how awful, or how bad it is. I need to get it out where I can see it so I can tear it down and fix it.

Which sounds so easy, and is probably why all the writing advice ever given to me boils down to:

Write the damn thing. Fix it later.