These days I feel like a pinball in a machine. My mind is zinging around all of the things I have to do, all of the things I want to do, and all of the reasons why neither group is getting done. This makes for a very frustrated and self-deprecating woman, which is followed quickly by that scolding inner voice that chastises for wallowing in my own self-pity or inadequacies. Waaah! Ok – that’s done.
The other night, I was on a roll – a writing roll – dredging out the final climactic battle scenes and I just suddenly stopped. It wasn’t a wall or any kind of writer’s block experience. It was more a realization of the importance of these final pages and an overwhelming pressure to get it just right. For the previous 80,000+ words, it’s been a fun storytelling, sort-of streaming from my brain.
Somehow, in the middle of the endless key-tapping racket, I got insecure. Was I putting too much action and not enough progress? Was there enough emotion? Was I leaving out details that have been permanently stored in my brain since this process began? Was I sure about the direction I wanted to go? Most importantly, was the finale I designed worth the previous hundreds of pages of build up?
I haven’t picked up with the story since then. I have been trying to put myself there and allow the story to play out in my mind, listening to battle music from great soundtracks to kind of inspire me (lame).
The funny thing is that there are probably a total of nine people who will ever even read this story and likely even less who will read this blog at some point. So, the idea of suffering over such deails seems pretty laughable on the surface. I would, however, put it out there that I agonize just as much over important business letters I write, or emails I send, etc.
So, we’ll just say it is the German in me.