I signed up for Nanowrimo as a lark, a thing to do while unemployed, and to see if I could do it. A game/project for one month.

I didn't count on taking it seriously. I'm a third of the way through December, and wrestling with this novel and these aliens. Thinking about naming, about the appearance and habits of giant squid, about how to connect different plot threads.

Nobody told me it would be easy to write. But I thought it would be easier not to. Instead, I'm sitting here, frustrated because the words won't come--oh, LiveJournal words are flowing, but I don't know what any of my characters are going to do next--but not content to just say "the hell with it" and play nethack or work on a Turbo zine or, well, anything.

Tomorrow or the day after, I'll have to start on a paid nonfiction project. I'll probably get lots of ideas then, when the novel can be work avoidance behavior again.

From: [identity profile] tsjafo.livejournal.com


Writer's Block, the sure cure for Writer's Cramp. Sometimes when I couldn't write, I'd do research. Digging through the documents often stimulated my thoughts enough to go on again.
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redbird: closeup of me drinking tea, in a friend's kitchen (Default)
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