"Unrequited love is slowly poisoning my soul, but I shall never let hate be the antidote." — Tehtena, Sister of Makeda, Princess of Sheba
(A question for my writer friends out there: Do you think 'hatred' would be better than 'hate' in the above sentence? I would like to hear your opinion.)
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Not exactly writer's block
Well, now I've got the time, and so, with permission from Princess Tehtena, here are a few things I would like to add to the previous post.
As of late, I am having a rather hard time writing. No, it is not writer's block, because I know exactly what words I want to write. It is not lack of time either. What it is, I believe, is an increasing reluctance on my part to hurt myself.
Work on my novel reminds me constantly of certain circumstances that are a source of deep sorrow to me. I simply cannot add a single word to my manuscript without being reminded of matters that make me profoundly sad. Sure, as is the case with many artists, I need a fair amount of pain in order to be creative, but there comes a time where even a masochist like me can't take it any more and feels tempted to work on something that makes him forget, rather than contemplate, the things that cast a shadow on his existence.
Of course I am not going to abandon my novel. I will pick myself up every day and plod on. I also know that many of my fellow writers are struggling with very similar problems and that there is thus nothing particularly unique about my situation. Still, I felt the need to post the above. Perhaps I am just hoping that those who are starting to get impatient with my slow progress will read this and cut me some slack. ;-) Will you?
As of late, I am having a rather hard time writing. No, it is not writer's block, because I know exactly what words I want to write. It is not lack of time either. What it is, I believe, is an increasing reluctance on my part to hurt myself.
Work on my novel reminds me constantly of certain circumstances that are a source of deep sorrow to me. I simply cannot add a single word to my manuscript without being reminded of matters that make me profoundly sad. Sure, as is the case with many artists, I need a fair amount of pain in order to be creative, but there comes a time where even a masochist like me can't take it any more and feels tempted to work on something that makes him forget, rather than contemplate, the things that cast a shadow on his existence.
Of course I am not going to abandon my novel. I will pick myself up every day and plod on. I also know that many of my fellow writers are struggling with very similar problems and that there is thus nothing particularly unique about my situation. Still, I felt the need to post the above. Perhaps I am just hoping that those who are starting to get impatient with my slow progress will read this and cut me some slack. ;-) Will you?
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