So. I’ve started another book. I’m 585 words in, which isn’t much at all in the grand scheme of things. It’s not a blank page, which is a plus, but it’s also not great.
The biggest problem is, however, the crows of doubt have already begun to gather. You see, I want this story to be good. I want to blow the editor’s socks off. I want her to be engrossed and enthralled from word #1. And right now, I don’t even know if I can do that. Oh, there’s a turn of phrase or two in there now that I rather like, but is it magical? Captivating?
And now we’re stuck in a catch-22 of the creative world. You want what’s in your head — the breathtaking images, the witty lines, the evocative description — to translate to the page. But it doesn’t always happen. Let’s say that it *normally* doesn’t happen. It’s a moment of planetary alignment when it does. A Blue Moon month, as it were. The point is — and what I’m trying to remind myself at this very moment — is you can’t think about your project that way. It’ll either end up being noteworthy, or it won’t. It won’t help to worry about it. It will be what it will be.
So easy to say. Ugh.
It’s too early to make judgments about this story. Nothing can be said either way. So I need to just tell the crows to piss off, stuff peanut butter into the mouths of the voices in my head, and simply keep on writing.
Right? I am, aren’t I? Right, that is.
I’d like to be able to say, “Nah, it’s already awesome; I know it is, the book will be published immediately…”
But I can’t. That’s too obnoxious. And arrogant. Ugh. Ridiculous.
Well. Off I go to work on the-book-that-would-hopefully-be-”not-dreck”.