When I want to be, I can be a very stubborn person. I’ll admit, when I don’t want to be, I can give into things far too easily, but that’s beside the point. When I’ve really put myself into something, I’m not going to just go and give up.
So, as you can probably guess, I’ve still been trying to write. I did some brainstorming with a friend of mine, fixed about half a dozen plot holes, and I started to feel confident again. I wrote an outline for my story, and although it’s not as good as the outline that I wrote for NaNoWriMo (which is kind of ironic, considering that most of what’s written during that is…not very good at all), I think it’s not too bad. Of course, when I started writing it, I was immediately unhappy with it. Nothing came out how I wanted, even remotely. It didn’t even sound how I wanted it to.
It didn’t occur to me what the problem was, however, until earlier this evening. After deciding to take a bit of a break, I decided to rewrite a scene that I’d written a few weeks ago, and immediately, it came out disastrous. Frankly, I’m not even sure what went wrong—probably a mixture of things, really. So, I decided to go read one of my favorite books by one of my favorite authors, Ruins of Gorlan by John Flanagan, but it only seemed to make my own writing seem worse. I think I write too wordy, with long sentences, but it throws my flow off, and even with all of the words, I lack description. Oh boy, description is definitely one of my weakest points.
As I realized that, my first thought was, Well, there goes my chance of trying to go somewhere with my writing anytime soon. Then, I realized something else. I want to publish one day. I’m not trying to, say, get on the Bestselling list (though that would be awesome), because I doubt that would ever happen, but I would like to share my stories with the rest of the world one day. But, of course, if that’s why I keep writing, then am I ever going to get anywhere? Probably not.
Frankly, it embarrasses me that this has become what’s making me keep writing, so, I’m going to change it. I am writing for me, nobody else. I have a story to tell (or three), and I’m going to tell it, whether it takes me three months, or fifteen years to do so. I’m only a teen, right? I have my whole life ahead of me, and I sure don’t need to rush anything. In this case, quality over quantity.
So, I’m going to take about a week break from writing, to separate myself from my stories and all of the frustration that I’ve been facing with them. I’m not sure if taking a break from writing entirely is a good idea, but I’m not sure it’ll really hurt anything. And, considering the fact that half the family (including myself, possibly) are fighting off the flu, I’m not sure I’ll be able to write much this week. Plus, I think I might try to be more analytical in my reading, and try to pick up some tricks and things (which, admittedly, probably means that I shouldn’t keep reading an average of three or four books a week).