Slump

As I mentioned a couple of posts ago, I've been in a writing slump recently. Last Saturday I realized I'd gone up a blind alley on the current project and had to throw away several days' worth of work. (Of course I didn't actually throw it away; I've already figured out a way to turn that material into something else and salvage most of it, if I'm not able to use it later on in its current form.) That threw me off-stride, I guess, because on Sunday and Monday I was barely able to work. The desire was there, and I put in the time, but the words just didn't want to come out of my brain. Tuesday I was busy with real life all day and didn't get a chance to work.

So today I faced the computer with no small amount of trepidation. I could tell that writing was going to be difficult again. Since I'd done six pages on Monday, I told myself just to match that, and if I couldn't get any more, then I wouldn't worry about it. By the middle of the day I had four pages and no idea what was supposed to happen next, so things were looking pretty bleak. I took a long walk -- left the dogs behind this time because I wanted to think -- and figured out a couple of things. They didn't add up to much, but that was enough to get me started again. I reached my six-page goal and said to myself, "Ten. You can do ten for the day."

Ten came and went and things were starting to fall into place. I kept going. By the time I stopped, I'd written seventeen pages for the day. Not an earth-shattering number or anything, but a good solid chunk of work. The words got me. One by one they built up some momentum and finally picked me up and carried me along with them. And it sure felt good.