running away in fear
I’ve decided to abandon, at least temporarily, writing Virgin.
This wasn’t an easy decision. I truly love the world, the problem is perfectly set up, there is a tension and conflict, and I feel for all the people in there. However, even brainstorming about why have I stopped writing brought up a big glaring I AM AFRAID and a host of little scary notes on what do I feel towards this novel and the protagonist. And myself, too. Also, it brought up the clenched jaw and upset stomach and trembling hands and the horrible feeling that I’m going profoundly crazy.
It seems that this wasn’t day job that brought me to a complete burn-out, it was this novel with its modest 250 words per day.
I think I will write this thing down, someday, when I’m older and wiser and when I know a way to deal with all these things that I was trying to solve on paper instead of my own life. Maybe I’ll write it every year for a month or two until I reach the end.
It’s not uncommon; after all, there are books that I read slowly, chapter by chapter, instead of rushing through in one big gulp. Virgin certainly isn’t a gulp-able thing and it seems that I can’t write it fast and remain a functional, sane human being. (This is the point where I appreciate the idea that writers should go to a writers’ resort and write for a month…except that writers’ resorts are full of writers. Going drooling-mad among writers is one of my prime nightmares so thanks, but no.)
Anyhow, I’m switching over to something lighthearted and easy-peasy, zero research, stupidity and easygoing stuff. Some sort of alternate reality/urban fantasy/something. Something that doesn’t drive me crazy. Something that I wouldn’t be afraid to mess up because it’s so easygoing and wasn’t meant to be serious. Something that I write not to get to the heart of it but to scratch the surface.
Something I’m not profoundly afraid of.
