Distractions

in case my lack of blogging hasn't been indication enough... i've been very distracted lately. i blogged about it a little bit over at White Blank Page too, but i'm gonna talk about it here some more. because i like talking about myself. public self-flagellation is so awesome.

lately, there have just been so many THINGS stealing my focus. some have been enormously good things, some have been not so great, and others have been just THING things of no consequence.

but the thing about these THINGS? is that i use them like excuses. i allow them to stand in the way of my goals because it's easier than finding a way around them. i tell myself it's okay if i don't write tonight because my day at work was stressful and i have a headache. but then i'll fiddle on the internets doing absolutely nothing productive for hours. sure, everyone needs a little time to zone out, but lately? there has been exactly zero zoning in.

i think part of the problem is that i love my idea too much. it's so perfectly formed in my head--all bright and shiny and happy and lovely. and i know that no matter how hard i work on it, it's never going to be as beautiful as it is in my head. it will be flawed, simply because it will be three dimensional. it will be real in a way that nothing that exists only in my head can be. and intellectually, i know that it real and flawed is so much more powerful and resonant than shiny perfection, but it's still a daunting thought. it still feels a little bit like hacking up a baby and turning it into frankenstein.

or, you know, something else less offensive.

i'm at a really great place with what i've written so far. i feel like i don't talk about the good things enough. i am writing. i am making progress. i'm not completely stalled out and spending all my time whining on the internets, i promise. i just need to be better about putting aside the distractions and making myself focus.

because at the end of the day? no one else cares if i finish this. friends may be supportive and encouraging, but their lives won't change if i don't finish. mine will. the weight of the could have beens will crush me if i continue to let the distractions mount and don't treat this with the respect it--and i--deserve.

i have talent. i have a voice. i have a story to tell.

i just need to give myself the room to tell it.

talking to myself

i was reluctant to start this blog. almost as reluctant as i am to talk about the fact that i'm writing at all. nearly everyone i know is writing, has written or is thinking about writing a book. it's the trend du jour; some might think i'm just hopping on the bandwagon--maybe i am. i won't apologize for it; the fact that this bandwagon exists at all has been incredibly inspiring and motivating.

however, because there is such a widespread community in place for authors and writers alike, because there is so much information available... i can't help but always feel like i'm one step behind. as though this is a race and i am in last place. i know there are people like me out there who are just starting out, but though i am new to this online community, i don't know that i've ever read a blog detailing the early stages of the writing process. the conceptualizing, the brainstorming, the outlining, the 39057094760946 times you write the first chapter and realize that it's not where you want your story to begin. (just me? bueller?)

(i don't mean to say there aren't any, just that i haven't found one yet. link me, if you know of some? thankee.)

talking about it at this stage feels a little preemptive, as though i'm speaking out of turn or using words i don't fully understand. what if i fail? what if i decide in two months or two weeks or hell, two minutes from now that this is too hard and i'm just going to give up? for starters, it would be embarrassing--which i guess is part of the point in starting this blog: talking about it makes me accountable, if only to the anonymous ether of the internets.

do i really have anything to add to this conversation? probably not. my story is not unique--except to me. and though i'm not likely to forget the experience of writing this book if when i finish, i think a daily, tangible account of the journey is a story worth telling... even if the only one i'm telling it to is myself.