So this is a thing that happens when I write: the nearer I get to the
end of any project, the slower I go. It's an exponential and irritating
decrease. I go from an easy 5000 a day at the start to a clawed and
desperate 200 words if I'm lucky, in between bouts of staring at an
unchanging screen. There's not even enough distraction on the internet
to justify the levels of avoidance I get to. And don't get me started on
the sudden upsurge of urgent real life errands that absolutely must be
done right now.
It's probably something to do with the
terror of finishing anything and the implications of the huge looming
consequences. If I finish a short story or a novel I don't have any
excuse not to submit it somewhere.
Submitting stuff is
scary. I don't deal well with rejection. I have enough people who view
my writing as a cute, endearing little hobby already; while it'd be nice
to prove them wrong, the pity and knowing exchanges when I try and fail
will be far worse than the current condescension. The odds of
acceptance versus rejection are not in my favour. Much safer just to
always have something almost finished, really.
Why yes, I am about five sentences shy of a completed short story and writing a quick blog post instead, why do you ask?
And yes, I am writing that short story instead of editing Dryden as I should be...
There's always a way to make my projects live forever.
Sigh.
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