I’m stuck.
Last week I was stuck.
The week before that, I got stuck.
And now I’m trapped in an endless vortex of soul-sucking stuck.
Writing can be fun. It can be really, really fun. The act of putting words where there were no words can divvy out a thrill like no other. The act of reading those words back and realizing they have come together to form a cohesive, INTELLIGENT, eloquently stated thought that no one else has come out with before is fuc@king exhilarating.
I have been editing my book long enough to know that on certain occasions it’s best to walk away. I have also been editing it long enough to know that if I keep walking away it will never get finished.
It’s a double-edged, mother-loving, ambition-crushing, brain-stewing PAPERCUT.
I have a stack of beta-readers ready and waiting to help with my WIP. I have the time I need to attack the thing while the hellions are in school. In fact, I calculated that if I have sixteen good days of editing in a row, I will be DONE in sixteen days.
And I can’t get through a paragraph.
Yesterday I washed the rugs. I cleaned the windows and put the screens back in. I went for a walk. Yesterday, I finished the laundry, and then washed all the winter coats and put them into storage. Yesterday, I didn’t edit a single word. I opened my manuscript, cringed, died a little, and closed it. And opened it. And closed it again.
In truth, I have no idea why I’m stuck. I tried writer’s wine. I tried editor’s wine. And then I realized that if I plan on going to work tonight to earn actual REAL money, and not the theoretical kind that will so OBVIOUSLY come once I finish my brilliant book (if I ever do), I should probably stop drinking.
While writing can be fun, editing can be tedious. It can be really, really tedious. The act of replacing the right words for the wrong ones can suck your soul dry like nothing else. The act of reading those edits back and realizing you’ve made a mockery of the English language that no one will ever, EVER be able to untangle is fuc@king exhausting.
*takes deep breath*
It could be argued that a good amount of wallow is healthy in every activity worth tackling.
So, instead of writing today I’ve decided to do just that.
Wallow.
To everyone out there in the trenches, to everyone killing it, everyone kind of muddling their way through, and everyone stuck in a rut of wallow with me, I salute you.
*raises writing wine glass*
*sees that it’s empty*
*raises editing wine glass*
*extends toast*
I love you guys.
J. A. Allen 