Well, one of my problems.
My BIGGEST problem is this: I want writing to be simple. I’m not dumb enough to want it to be easy, but I want the process to be reliable and predictable. I want to write 1000 words a day and 100 days later have a first draft. I want to follow a nice editing to-do list that will lead me to a clean second draft. I want to make an outline and then write to that outline. Or I want to write into the dark, and have all the pieces magically fall into place. I want to write by hand and edit when I’m typing up. I want to brainstorm via dictation in the morning and then happily get words down in the afternoon. I want to find my process, my way of doing things. I want to find the perfect schedule, the perfect day. I want habit and routine and for everything to move along at a steady beat.
Except, I also don’t want that. I’m rebellious by nature. And stories are too. They refuse to act alike. They refuse to act consistently across their lifespans. They’re difficult, unpredictable contrarians. Just like my stupid brain.
So that’s my problem. I want control when creation is uncontrollable. I want routine and order when a deeper part of me prefers disorder and chaos.
My solution is I need to soak up the truths from this Chuck Wendig article and remind myself every bloody day that my process is an unknowable, mystical being and my inner chimp throws a major hissy fit whenever I tell it how to spend its day. I have to be present; I have to do things because I enjoy being busy. I have to do something that contributes to the creation of fiction, no matter what it is. I have to forget daily word counts and routines and all that crap. I have to stick with my qualitative approach to recording my progress, because it’s good for me. I have to stop freaking out about all that stuff that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter how I do it; I just need to do it.
Urgh. When will I learn?