It's late and I'm tired, but because I haven't written anything in a few days, I feel the need to write something...anything. I'm stuck in my novel. I've reached a spot where I have ideas, written some, but I can't go further until I figure out whether I really want to keep things or not. Feeling stuck makes me feel unstable inside. LOL. Things have been flowing so smoothly that it's throwing me off to feel in a rut. I think sometimes my mind is so crammed with ideas and the constant flow is bound to jam sometime. Maybe a few more days without writing will get me back on track. Who knows?
Sometimes I just wish I could step outside myself, sit back and read what I've written as me (because I know my taste), but as the me who hasn't written the story and doesn't know it forward and backward, behind and front. It's hard for me to say if it's really good, if people (people who like the same things as me of course) will actually like it--or if I'm just dreaming. Sometimes it's hard to trust myself.
I start second guessing myself and think, even though I like it and it is definitely something I'd read, I'm afraid everyone else will think it's boring. They probably will. It lacks suspense and action...that kind of stuff. But it's full of emotion, loss, love, betrayal...all the raw human emotions--and just what I like to read about.
So, I guess I have to tell myself, just like I said before, that if I like it, there's got to be other people out there that like those kinds of things, right?
I also worry that because I've written this one so quickly, that it's flowed so well, it stinks. Do you have to have spent months and months on a book to make it good? Hmmm...
Oh, to be someone else in myself for just a day, so I could read it and know...and know what direction to take with this road block! Grrr....it'll come.