Writing has been a nightmare lately

Well, perhaps ‘nightmare’ is too strong a phrase to use.  I can’t finish anything!  All my ideas seem like crap!  It feels like when I was sleeping, somebody performed sneak genetic surgery on me, removing every single bit of creativity in my DNA and replaced it with diseased squirrel poop!  Perhaps, this needs a bit of explanation.

A few weeks back, I picked what, for me, is a dream project back up after awhile.  In the late 80’s and early 90’s, my father wrote an anti-terrorism novel.  It was 800 pages typed.  Upon completion, he sent the novel into a publisher for review.  It was rejected, as so many novels are.  But (and get this), his rejection letter was 21 pages long, typed!  Anyone that’s ever sent in a novel and had it rejected knows how rare a 21 page rejection letter is.  Hell, most of them are form letters, maybe a paragraph or two, usually just a form that they sign and send off.  A 21 page rejection letter means in no uncertain terms that the person who reviewed it believes that there is something there worth paying attention to.

My father’s reaction?  He stopped writing it, and the novel sat in a box in his garage for almost 20 years.  A few years ago, I asked him if I could have it, and if he’d mind if I rewrote it.  He agreed, so I began working on entering the text into Liquid Story Binder (a writing software).  I switched to scrivener and started transferring it into that (more on the switch another time).  After a month or so, I started working more on projects of my own, so I put it aside again.  A month or so ago, I picked it back up.  As of this writing, I am on page 181 of his manuscript.  I end up entering a minimum of 1000 words a day into Scrivener.

The problem has been that whenever I try and write a new story or start a new novel, my brain turns into mush.  What seems like a good idea when I’m thinking about it turns into “blah blah blah”, I write like 20 or 30 words and then stop, stuck.

Now, I have several works that are in the editing stage that I could work on, but for some reason I feel like I ought to start something fresh.  I just…it’s like every time I try to write something original, the stupid fairy beats me with a stick.

I keep chugging away at it, though.  I know that sooner or later, somehow, some way, the writer neurons in my brain will start firing again

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