Today’s riddle: when is giving up on writing the best way to start writing?
Answer: when what you’re giving up on is what was holding you back; when it had become the excuse for not writing. As in: I don’t have time (or, ahem, inspiration or, ahem, discipline) to revise the 40,000 word partial manuscript for my novel-in-progress, so I just won’t write anything at all.
Something about a staring a pandemic in the face that makes a person have a “come to Jesus” meeting with herself.
To wit: I’m so uninterested in my youthful characters anymore that I can barely remember their names.
To wit: I don’t have any kids and have never observed the specie up-close. Sure, I have a couple of step-kids in their late fifties, but the youngest was 19 when I came on their scene. The grand-kids are off somewhere now in their own parallel universes, as much a mystery to me as I suspect their Granddad and I are to them. Won’t we ever just stay on the porch with the puppies and act our ages? And where the heck are those damn rocking chairs anyway?
That’s it. I’m packing up ye olde novel-not-so-much-in-progress. Nothing so dramatic or passionate as burning it. Whistling while I work.
The art journals I started for some of the main characters are something else entirely. They stay. Some very cool stuff there which I intend to use and have fun with.
So, what’s next? Writing whatever I please, that’s what! Free writing. I like the sound of it.