I’ve recently made a discovery about myself. For most people this might not be a huge deal but for me it was MONU-FUCKING-MENTAL.
Background info you need so this makes sense: I’m working on writing a book. I go through bouts of intense, crippling self doubt (and I’m sure I’m the only one in the world…)
About 75% of me is a hyper-organized, anal, control freak perfectionist. 20% is artsy and creative. 5% is caffeine. 100% of all that is insane.
I’ve been trying to write my book in an organized fashion; trying to plot out chapters and scenes. Attempting to dictate to my characters who they are, what they want and who they are working towards becoming. I was having to force myself to write and I felt like the stuff I was producing was craptacular. Then, one day, I said fuck it and just started writing the scene that popped into my head.
Enter my creative side.
I wrote two chapters over the weekend and I have no idea where they’re going to go in the book. And I think, for once, I’m ok with that. Maybe I’m just one of those writers who doesn’t do well with a story outline? Maybe this will work for me. Or maybe I’ll crash and burn and spend my final days working at McDonald’s. Who knows?