Just Keep Creating
I couldn't sleep last night. And for the first time in a while, it wasn't the "bad" kind of insomnia. It was the good kind...the childlike kind that keeps you tossing and turning because the thoughts that are circulating through your brain are just too enthralling for you to even consider closing your eyes.
I was thinking about my book. Not the one I'm reading...but the one I'm writing. I couldn't get the storyline out of my head. It's been on my mind a lot the past couple of weeks. I keep asking myself if it's really the type of storyline I want to use for what I hope is my first published book. I question whether or not I will be able convey what I want to convey in a way that is going to keep people interested on multiple levels.
Writing fiction is a funny thing. Even though fiction is "fake," or made up, there is still such a giant, underlying level of truth hidden in the plot line. While the surface of the story may be completely pulled from imagination, the things that "make" the story...the emotion, the rawness, the pain and conflict...are all very real. The ability to create those types of feelings within a fiction novel doesn't come from the same part of the mind that the basic storyline originated in. Those parts of the story come from the heart of the person writing it. So, even though the work may be fiction, it is still very real in a variety of ways. Therefore, there is still a looming feeling of vulnerability.
While lying in bed, I was thinking so much about the characters and the direction that I'm taking the book that I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep until I spent some time with my writing. You see, I've been taking the "just write, don't read" advice as I have been chugging along. This means that I have written nearly 10,000 words, but I haven't went back and read them from the beginning. I pay just enough attention to the sections to make sure that things make sense for the most part, and that's it. I think this has been creating a major feeling of uncertainty, because all I could think as I was staring at the ceiling was...does this book even flow so far?
So, around 12:30 AM, I rolled out of bed, creeped to my desk in the living room, grabbed my laptop and flash drive, and got back in bed. And I read. I read my words...my creation, from start to finish. When I reached the end, I expected to feel disappointed in myself, or have a list of 500 things that I should have worded or portrayed differently. But...I didn't. I had a few corrections in mind, but for the most part, I was really, really happy with what I had just read. I no longer felt uncertain about the story. I no longer felt afraid of putting pieces of myself into it. I felt fulfilled, and my mind was at ease.
One giant solution to uncertainty is to push through doubts, and just keep creating. That is exactly what I have to continue doing.
Posted by Miranda @ My Restless Soul at 3:41 PM