Last night I did my best to fight off the bout of procrastination that has been plaguing me since the beginning months of October. a mere 300 words and several hours later, I gave up and surrendered to the doxycyclamine before crawling to bed with my little chihuahua, Macho.
While I wrestled the 7-pound, snoring bed hog for a spot atop the mattress, I began to ponder the reason for my mental block. What motivated me in the beginning to start such a journey? What was it that kept me going for so long? Made me proud? Made me believe in myself?
I know in my heart it's still there lost inside, that powerful motivation, smoldering and screaming at me to get to work, to put my many ideas on the page. To be happy. Why then, if the desire hasn't left me, can I not write? How does one sort and preserve the inspiration flitting around in one's head?
I fear I know the answer to my problem. I have so many stories running through my mind, that when I attempt to work on the novel, the others out shout it. Then, when I do silence all but the one little voice whispering ideas for my novel in my ear, they are so disorganized, I cannot think straight. They never come chapter after chapter in a neat little line, or fully developed. That would be too easy. No, they come in staggered blurbs, leaping from different scenes spaced throughout the novel.
Why can't writing a novel be like composing a short story?
I'm trying so terribly hard to be an organized, collected writer, but I know that isn't me. I am a pantser.
Still, there must be a middle ground.
If anyone is out there reading this and happens to be/know a seat-of-the-pants writer, what do you/they do to organize their thoughts without too much structure? How does one capture and tame inspiration without stifling creativity?