Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Last week I didn't write a single word of the book. I don't know if it was finally reaching page one hundred that made me feel I deserved some sort of break, or if I was just too wrapped up in prepping for the wedding. I alternated both of these excuses in my mind all week.
Today I'm starting back in and realizing that the truth of it is that I'm just in a really difficult part of the story. I hate writing middles. I think I'm pretty good at beginnings and endings, but there's something so intimidating and complicated about writing the bulk of the story, the gut of it, that I'm nearly paralyzed by it. I wish I could rush on to page two hundredandwhatever and be done with the draft.
I tend to be this way about most things in my life. I'm always uncomfortable with the inbetween. I like to be going somewhere, or to have just arrived. The rest I'm often baffled by and anxious about. The only upside to this is that usually my unrest causes me to (eventually, often much later than I should) take action.
So on to one hundred and one.
Posted by Lindsey at 9:43 AM