About two months ago I posted about the beginnings of my novel writing attempt, and all went well, at first. The initial enthusiasm encouraged me to make the time necessary to write as often as I could, and ignore the temptations of reading or watching a film. Within that first month I made good progress, writing about 5,500 words, which I was happy with as I often only found about half an hour in a day to write. I strove to ignore my inner critic nagging me about my lack of talent, and just kept writing. Then things went somewhat awry.
Primarily this was due to work, but also I started to lapse into distraction mode, and suddenly found I had so much more to do and couldn’t find the time to sit and write, not even for thirty minutes. The inner critic seized on this and reminded me that what I was writing was generally drivel and I really ought to stop. I hadn’t a clue where I was going with the story; just a vague notion of where I wanted to get to, and I wasn’t at all sure if I was going about it the right way.
As a result, and sadly somewhat predictably, I haven’t worked on my novel for a month. I had thought I would try to do so this evening, but having sat at my laptop, I decided to write this instead. I suppose a part of me is hoping it might stir some inspiration in me, but I’m not sure. At the back of my mind is also the potential prospect of studying for a Master’s degree over the next two years, which will also probably put an end to my creative efforts for a while. It would seem my mind has already decided I won’t have time if I’m studying, so might as well stop now.
It is frustrating because I can see what I want to write but can’t seem to express it the way I would like to. I may have given myself too big a task; I often do. However, I do hope I can find my way back in again to that enthusiastic state at the start, and in doing so, I hope I can hear the call of my own world again.
Fellow writers, if you have any advice for getting back on track, I’d appreciate it. Thank you.