Running on Empty

I don’t know how many others have said or felt that there’s only so much energy for any given story. And when that runs out, it’s damnedably hard to keep going without some kind of motivation.

I’ve hit that point with Legend’s End.

Now, I’ve hit that point with this particular book many times. I’ve struggled more with this particular book than I have with any other book I’ve written. It’s to be expected because after many decades of doing things wrong, I decided to not stay in my comfortable writing ruts. This has been a big experiment book, trying to discover what’s natural and what’s been piled on during all the years of “how to write” nonsense. Frustration and problems were expected.

And those frustrations and problems were overcome. Writing this book has gone in lots of stops and starts as I figured things out. What works, what kinda works, what really sucks. Some of the how-to-write stuff is helpful. Most is not. To some extend, I’ll probably be figuring that out for the rest of my creative life.

But this, this is different. I’m probably 1-2000 words from finishing this book. Probably about 3-6 scenes, at most. And it’s like pulling hen’s teeth to put words down on it.

Sitting here, staring at the file, I realized what the problem is now.

I’m damned tired of making decisions for this story.

That’s what writing is, after all. Making decisions and putting that into words. Then explore the ramifications of said decisions. Then make more decisions, and keep going and going and going until all the questions have been answered and there’s no more decisions to be made. Everything’s tied up for this story. Yeah, there might be a sequel, but that’s a different story.

Now I’m to the point where there’s not many decisions left. Yeah, I’ll press on and get it finished. Yes, I will put proper consideration into it. But at this point in time, at the heat of the climax, these decisions have normally been no-brainers. Obvious. Natural.

As I type this, I wonder if I’ve done something horribly wrong in the telling of this story that I’m to this point and it’s not natural or obvious. And, if I have screwed up, dear ghods, what will I do then with this book? It’s not something I want to think about. And when I finish the book, I’ll have to look at that possibility. Even more, I’ll run the risk of not seeing it myself and discover it only when my betas read it.

So maybe this is a tired born of procrastination–something else I’m not accustomed to in my writing. Ah, the joys and wonders of learning something new.

  • The Bag of Holding

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