Writing Has Given My Brain Such A Pinch That...

This week's installment of Writing Wednesday will be more of an exploration of this particular writer's state of mind than anything else.

I really didn't want to admit that I had a problem, because admitting that I had a problem meant that somehow I didn't want to do it anymore, that it became too hard, too tough and too aggravating to do. The "it" that I'm referring to is my writing, while the "problem" is my lack of motivation. Not just the creative aspect of it, in which a story slowly comes to life on paper, but the business part of it as well.

I mean, for the past week and the for the past couple of weekends, I plan out what I want to do for writing:

1} Continue working on my short story trilogy.
2} Searching for publishers (mostly) for my book.

Simple, yes?

Execution has been seriously and unequivocally flawed.

Try as might, I can't quite seem to wrap myself around the short story trilogy I'm writing. I mean, I've gotten better in hammering out the details to whatever plot I happen to apply to a given story, and the main one that I threw in (a contract on the M.C.) is very doable. Shoot, this trilogy is starting to percolate into something a little bit longer, because I even though I threw in a small swerve, that swerve will serve as a fantastic starting point for a possible novella-to-novel length book.

"That's great news!", you're probably saying to yourself.

Well, it would be great news if I was churning out a ton o' words for it. I mean, it's bubbling beneath the surface so bad that it's threatening to become my next great writing obsession (Line 21 was my first). Problem is that I'm slowly finding myself unable to pull the trigger. I mean, I pick up the story, do even more editing, then spend a minimum thirty-five minutes staring at a blank piece of paper in a ultimately futile attempt at writing.

I know it ain't writer's block or burnout that's preventing me from writing. I believe its something much worse. What that is I haven't been quite able to put my finger on, but whatever it is, its pretty much stopping me dead in my tracks for normal writing.

Now on the other side of the equation, whatever it is that's preventing me from writing is slowly preventing me from submitting as well. I've been able to narrow down one of the symptoms, which was submitting to a publisher this summer that requires an exclusive window for consideration. This is all fine and good, because every publisher has its own policy. However, I think that for the most part, the average publisher doesn't mind simultaneous submissions.

In hindsight, it probably would've been better had I submitted to this particular publisher later in the year, like in the fall when I'm job hunting, so that I don't mind having something on the back burner while I'm busy concentrating on something else.

Because of the policy of exclusiveness, I haven't really bothered trying to tighten my query letter nor synopsis for most of the summer. However, for the past week, I've been forcing myself to do just exactly that, because even though I'm getting better at playing this waiting game, I'm afraid that if I don't start submitting again, then there is a good likelihood that I'll just put this on the back burner and write this up as a learning experience.

And because I really don't want to do that, I'm making a conscious effort to move on. I'm figuring at this point, almost two months later, I've garnered another rejection of my novel. So I'm making the attempt at re-writing my query letter to suit the next few publisher's needs, tightening up my synopsis, and making a concrete decision on a pen name.

I should mention that this current writing snafu is also making itself known in my blogging, because for the life of me, I can't find a proper ending for this post. So because I can't find a proper verbal ending for this post, I'll leave you with this pictorial ending:



Just inside the zoo, located in Columbus, Ohio