I haven’t written anything substantial in a very, very long time.
It’s because after writing my last manuscript and gearing up for revision, I realized it wasn’t the kind of story I wanted to tell. It had many elements of what I wanted, especially in the beginning which was to connect with the reader and emotional points, but slowly everything shiny about it grew dull.
So what I want to do next is not what I did with everything in the past, which is to dive in. I want to think, plan, and account for something that will be good. I want a thoughtful story I can be proud of. And this, my friends, has held me back enormously.
I continue to consume great stories. I go back to things that resonated with me and try to learn what worked and what didn’t. It’s been a hellish exercise because while I feel like I’m learning a lot, I don’t feel like I can apply what I’ve learned. It’s as if I know it in my head, but I’ve yet to internalize it so that it comes out in my writing. It feels a lot like worrying at the edge of a cliff. Will I fly or will I fall?
Meanwhile, I’m learning more about myself, which is that my love of visual art hasn’t been trashed like I previously thought. I still appreciate it and the strongest stories in my eyes combine both visuals and writing. What does this mean? I’m still exploring that.
To some degree it feels a bit hopeless, but it’s fun learning.