Write in Spite

Tumblr Post #18 (November 2017)

I’ve been feeling uninspired to write lately— uninspired to work on this novel that has taken up vital real estate in my mind for over two years now.

I thought about blaming this one on writer’s block. But if I’m being completely honest with myself, that’s nonsense. I’ve had chapter 11 outlined since September. I know the dialogue, the theme, setting, vital characters, peripheral characters, the whole shebang. So, it’s not writer’s block I’m experiencing.

It’s writer’s remorse.

This overall feeling if intense dread has had me occupied as of late. I’ve been operating under the fear of not having this novel written for another decade or so, if it is ever written at all; the thought that my story may be cliché and not original; that it may not be strong enough to become a permanent fixture in our collective conscious like I’d hoped it would.

Despite the strides I had made in Tomi’s masterclass, the positive feedback I’ve received from my babysitters, now emotionally invested in how the story will play out, and notebooks full of first draft material, I still have this feeling of dread occupying my psyche.

It’s fleeting, this writer’s remorse.

But I notice it appears whenever I pick up my notebook and attempt to write. And it goes away when I put it down. So down it has remained, unfortunately.

And as much as I have tried to live under the “out of sight, out of mind” mantra, those sticky notes are preventing me from being a devout practitioner. I walk past those notes every day—posted on the wall by my bed, full of story structure ideas and plot twists—with large words written on them in my handwriting. The handwriting of someone who was ambitious and inspired and determined and excited to be the next rising star in the writing world.

Right now, I don’t completely recognize that person, though I know she exists somewhere inside of me.

I know I must keep writing. I just don’t know how to get over this remorse I’ve been feeling lately. This remorse that only comes when I try to sit down to write. Logically, I could avoid the remorse by avoiding writing altogether, but that gets me nowhere.

So, I must try another tactic.

I must find the will to write through it and around it and below it and above it.

I must find a way to write in spite of my remorse.

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