This past weekend I finally did manage to start writing some. The story chosen was one that has been on my mind for many years, namely a horror adventure story set in Victorian times. Sort of a Sherlock Holmes meets Indiana Jones kind of deal, with a sprinkle of Lovecraft. The tally ended up being 1767 words, not an impressive number in any way, but at least it is a start. Though it was mostly a rewrite of an existing work, so I suppose that makes the feat even less impressive. But still better than nothing. All that is needed now is to get into some sort of routine. Waiting for inspiration is the death of a writer.
Writing. That most tempestuous and tormentous creative outlet, vice and virtue all rolled into one. Equally passionate on the lows as on the highs. I am forced confess that my own writing has been suffering severely as of late. The raw creativity is there, but it adamantly refuses to be poured onto the page. Progress is being made in the form of chapter outlines, character backgrounds, world building, and more, but that is not quite the kind of progress I crave. What I want is simply to sit down and just write, to see the story take shape, to see it come to life. That is such a satisfying feeling. But that aside, with this glaring lack of actual writing being done, one could easily say my plans have been a failure, and that would be the honest thing to do. Self reflection is most certainly a good thing, and in keeping with the theme of honesty, I would say the lack of writing stems from a mix of anxious apprehension and simple laziness. In short: writer’s block.
However, with that being said, I do have a new plan for the weekend. Or as we say in Sweden: skam den som ger sig (shame on him who gives up).
The best laid plans and all that. My previously stated intention to finally get cracking again with my writing, got waylaid in the most predictable fashion. One should never be too excited about anything as the universe seems to hate such things. A spell of the dreaded summer cold, some matters of a personal nature, and even a malfunctioning internet were the roadblocks of choice this time. But with that all sorted out now, perhaps we can continue were we left off. Hopefully the universe will see fit to cut me a break this time.
It is definitely time to get this show on the road. The past few weeks I have begun to feel an increasing urge to write again. Nowhere near the more palpable need that I want to feel, but it is getting there. And now it is time to somewhat force that into being. And the easiest and quickest way to do that for most people with the inclination to write, is simply to put aside some time every day just for writing. With some alloted quiet time on a daily basis the results will come. Some days will be better than others, and every now and then nothing at all will be written, but the progress will become inevitable with time.
First of all I will finish a horror short story that I started years ago. It will consist of 5 parts, at least that is the plan, each a couple thousand words. My aim is to simultaneously decide on which of the other novel ideas I will pursue as soon as this short story is finished, and it will also give me an opportunity to flex those too long dormant literary muscles. It all sounds like a plan to me. Though that will have to wait until tomorrow. It is well after 3 am here, so I should try to get some sleep now. But tomorrow, we begin. And I must say that I do feel rather excited about the whole thing.
Today I spent a little time going through the many (too many?) stories and ideas I have accumulated over the years, ideas that have been percolating for far too long without being put to paper. Disregarding the ones that could barely be called more than seeds of ideas, I was still left with quite a few. Some are more fleshed out than others, of course, but each and every one are certainly fleshed out enough to be told. It makes me sad that I just can’t seem to find the will to it. Just do it, damn it! Oh well, here are the ones that are properly fleshed both in regards to story and characters, as well as the world they are in, which have been written down to some degree (at least a few chapters):
- Epic Fantasy
- Victorian Mystery/Horror
- Contemporary Urban Supernatural
- Dystopian Science Fiction
And these are the stories that are not quite as fleshed out and exists more in the mind than on paper:
- Contemporary Urban Horror
- Interwar Era Supernatural
- Survivalist Science Fiction
- Contemporary Mythological Horror
- 18th Century Supernatural/Horror
So there is where I am at the moment; Trying to drag myself out of the apathetic mindset that keeps me from doing what I love. But where to begin? Most if not all of these ideas are brilliant, though it could be argued that I am somewhat biased on the matter. Joking aside, all of these ideas have good potential in my opinion. I would certainly read them if someone wrote them. Now I just need to work through this blockage of depression. And knowing myself, soon I will.