Showing posts with label writer's block. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writer's block. Show all posts

Friday, 27 July 2007

GMTW - Report Card

I can't say that my Get Myself Together Week has been an unqualified success, but I've worked on that second book most days, and today I did some overdue edits on a friend's book, so I got that out of the way. Next week will be better: I'm getting back into my stride, and am living the story in my head, which is important.

Saturday, 21 July 2007

Oh, hell. That second book.


The agent's assistant loved the first book. The agent loved it, and offered representation. The editor at Dorchester loves it. She's buying it. My job right now is to focus on that second book, and beyond.

The second book is more or less finished. Since last year, actually. The agent read it, suggested a few changes (that I totally agree with) and that's what I'm ostensibly working on now. The problem is, I'm not. Working, that is. Every now and then I do a bit, but then I get sidetracked. I mean, in a major way.

First it was the teaching stint from January to May. When that ended I launched into the edits of book 2 - and stalled in grand fashion. Spent weeks working on the proposal for a nonfiction giftbook, and doing the research for the first three chapters. Finished that and started this blog. Then there dawned the day of the widget. Man, that was fun. Followed by the hunt for chicklets and, oh, lots of desultory web-surfing. Not to mention writing down some ideas for novel #3. Why am I even considering #3 when my agent is waiting for #2? I berate myself.

Every time I think about that second book something looms up in my head. I know what it is. It's fear. It's resistance. What if this one's no good? What if I make the changes and instead of getting better, the story does the opposite? What if it never sells? What if I'm a one-book wonder? What if what if what if...?

I've re-read The War of Art by Steven Pressfield. I love that book. (Thank you Angela Canales of the Woosterdafoe group). Pressfield shines an unflinching beam on every one of my neuroses, excuses, fears and rationalizations. He says what every writer who has been through the fire says: the only way to overcome the bogey is to write. Sit there. Do it. Even if you think your writing stinks, do it. Even if you know it stinks. And keep doing it. That's the only way.

I'm taking a deep breath, and making a resolution for next week. I won't go anywhere near the net until I've put in my time on #2. Every day. This crap has gone far enough.