I’ve been wanting to write a series of unrelated books for years. These are ideas that have been implanted in my mind, and waking me up at night, for a long time now. However, miraculously I have also found myself paralyzed.
I have started writing, I’ve gotten along reasonably far even on some projects only to find myself back in ‘writer’s block land‘. I’ve found out this creative paralysis cannot be blamed on any of the classic causes. There is a highly personal and delicate reason for it, and even the threat of NaNoWriMo could not get me moving on my keyboard yesterday.
I just started participating in NaNoWriMo about an hour ago. I’ve written almost 600 words so far, and none of them pertain to my much loved ideas.
I am writing a fictionalized version of the truth. It is dirty, it is simple and it isn’t pretty: I am writing what I feel.