The eight chapters remaining to be written in my novel are among the most exciting and dynamic chapters in the whole thing. But, as you’ve been reading in this space, these remaining pages have been harder to start then they probably should be. Something, and I’m not sure what that something is, has been keeping me from getting to work on this stuff. It’s not apathy, because I have sat down and tried to write them. And it’s not really writer’s block, per se. What is it? Well, that’s what I’d like to know.
When I outlined these chapters in the car a couple of weeks ago, I was thrilled at the prospect of getting started on them. Now, whenever I find myself with a few moments to get some writing in, I get no further than the first sentence. Something is standing in my way.
Since I can’t define what that something is, I suppose I should stop talking about it. This random, meandering whining does neither you, nor me, any good.
What to say instead? Stef and I watched a program on the Discovery Channel regarding the stages of human gestation. The program’s main claim to fame was the way in which it overlaid fancy computer graphics over the groins of the parties involved, to show what was going on inside. There was a highly detailed sequence detailing the difficulty faced by a newborn to cram its head through its mother’s pelvis and out into the world.
I did manage to stave off the demons for the most part today. What did I do different? Well, I didn’t think twice about getting a couple of donuts for the ride home when I got to the train station. I blasted songs on the car stereo that I could sing along with. And I drove really fast. Basically, I threw caution to the wind and did what I wanted to do. Those days are always the days when I’m at my best.