I made my goal for the month already! I seem to be the only one excited about this but I don’t care! Hah! I have over 32k words written for this month, my goal was for 30k and I’m still going to write every day. The next goal for this month requires finishing Forgotten Shadows, the very first novel that refuses to except excuses.
That’s right! Before my newfound desire to finally buckle down and really pour effort and refuse procrastinating excuses, I started many novels and not a single one is complete. I started by picking up my old original fiction novel, but I really want to do something with that. Then I picked up a novel I started based in Azeroth, the main world in the game World of Warcraft. It started with some WOWWiki research I started for a character and landed on an interesting page about a cult. I decided then to write a story about one of the cult’s many different pockets of members.
I combined this with my blood elf priestess’s story when I played her with a friend. The whole story has gotten so far into Sue territory it’s not even funny, at least for an rp character’s story, though I try to reign that in some. A lot of the story is just plain bad, but that’s irrelevant to me.
For so long I let perfection and artistic aims, a desire to always write at my absolute best or not at all, paralyze my writing. I knew I could write so much better than I was and it often frustrated me.
Then, after the pressures of tons of school papers and essays went away with my expensive little piece of paper (BA degree in psychology), I felt a strong desire and motivation to write again. I knew, unlike before, this time, I was ready, I am ready.
However, I’m still learning and I heard something somewhere, I can’t remember where, that made me think about all the times I picked up an instrument. When I learned my first instrument in grade school, we began with the easiest song to play, Hot Crossed Buns.
It dawned on me. My frustration with writing is because I stopped practicing, I was in such a hurry to play exquisite, captivating compositions with my writing, that I completely underestimated the value, the absolute necessity of practice, of simple songs that help you learn the craft.
So, Forgotten Shadows is me, grabbing a practice novel that I like the basic idea for but don’t value so much that I feel paralyzed by doing it justice. It is the Hot Crossed Buns I am playing in order to get back into practice, to finally complete a novel I started, to throw words into just to keep myself writing.
Anyone who looks at the journal and thinks it is boring, or mediocre work at best, I am aware it’s no literary Mozart. However, I refuse to let a lack of experience, a lack of art and flare keep me from practicing any longer. For this writer, it becomes a vicious cycle that eats any words I think, playing a negative script over with monotonous insanity.
I asked myself, if I don’t expect to be able to pick up the violin and play Scheherezade without a great deal of practice and experience, then why do I expect that of my writing? Both are arts refined, sculpted, and perfected by experience and practice.
It may not work for you, but it is working for me and working far better than I expected! Only 18k more words until I reach the 90k goal on Forgotten Shadows. I should make my other goal for the month too.
My first finished novel…I know it sucks, but I’m still getting very excited!