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Archive for September 14th, 2011

I can’t seem to write more than a couple hundred words a day this month. The story┬ájust isn’t grabbing my attention. I really wish I was far enough along to start worrying about my internal editor kicking up a fuss but at this point, she’s still on her coffee break.

I think I’m going to have to battle this in bouts through out each day. Maybe it’s time to try a structured writing schedule- hour-long blocks a few times a day. I seem to be most productive when I have a bit accomplished in the morning. I’m dangerously close to throwing in the towel with this one but I refuse to go on strike.

Although, maybe if I give up it’ll take the pressure off and I can finally get something accomplished. Perhaps I need to allow myself to “fail” this month and get over the fear of not accomplishing something. “Failure” is such an ugly word. I don’t think I could ever truly fail if I learn something from this experience. I can’t be good at everything (as much as my uncle might claim, I’m certainly not a late-blooming Mozart of the literary world) when it comes to writing.

I started off with the dream of having completed 12 novels in a year but maybe that wasn’t realistic. I’ll do my best but if I end up with 11 or 9 or 4 by next July, that’s what is meant to be. Besides, I’ll have next year’s corresponding months to edit, re-write and possibly finish whatever needs to be taken care of.

I can’t be disappointed in myself if nothing else comes of this project. I finished my autobiography, a piece that was 4 years in the making. Sometimes a story is like a diamond- there’s a lot of detritus in order for that one perfect item to be formed and discovered. I’ll be sad and a lot disappointed if that’s the case but at least I’ve purged one massive project that’s been on my mind all those years.

I think I’ve made my peace with this month’s attempt and from now on I’ll still try my best but I forgive myself for not succeeding. I have to remember that most months will be spent outside my comfort zone and deep within areas in which I have little to no experience. This is one of those moments when two passions- the WWII era and literature- can’t be combined and that’s okay. Sometimes it’s a good thing to have interests that are mutually exclusive.

It’s really tough allowing myself to not succeed. We are our own harshest critics- would I think anything less of someone else who was attempting this? Not at all. Why is it so hard to give ourselves the same compassion and understanding and support sometimes as we would others? Maybe this was my lesson for the month.

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