rather than writing... or, the gap

Rather than writing, I will over-analyze my writing.

I have always loved to write.

I have little stories that I wrote when I was so small--stories my mom had to write down for me because I didn't know how to write yet. They're funny and imaginative (for a four-year-old anyway).

As a kid growing up, I would write stories all the time. I have binders full of stories in my attic now. Stories about all sorts of weird crap only a nine-year-old would think of.

Then in high school I could barely stop writing. I wrote hundreds of thousands of words in high school, on tons of different projects. I started something like 8 novels in high school. Of course, didn't finish any of them (though some came close).

In college I started doing NaNo and really focusing. I completed two novels, a sci-fi and a fantasy. The sci-fi sucked, I'm sure. The fantasy, eh. Could be better. I've rewritten it now, oh, like 6 hundred bazillion times. It's getting there.

I love to write because I love sentences. I don't know what it is about those guys. I love 'em. I just heart 'em with a million lovey dovey hearts. Good sentences just make me want to hug things.

Bad sentences make me want to hit things.

Grammar is my homeboy. I love it. I love understanding it and I love messing with it and using it and strategically not using it.

I love utilizing white space--e.e. cummings is my hero for that.

I love layers of meaning, like T.S. Elliot mastered. He is so cool.

I love to write because I love how words look, how they work, what they mean. I just love words and how they fit together. They are beautiful puzzle pieces that you can put together however you want, to mean whatever you want, however many times you want to. How amazing is that?

Because I love writing and patterns and structure, it follows that I like to write stories. I love it. But I always feel lacking in the inspiration department.

Recently I had what I thought was a good idea for a story, and I snowflaked the crizzap outta that sucker and now I have no real motivation to write it.

I started writing a story to go along with the writing exercise I did the other day, but now I'm 7000 words in and have no idea where it's going.

This year, I resolved to complete four novels. Didn't matter which ones they were, if they were new or old ones I've put on the shelf. So far I have not really come close to finishing any and my first deadline is in March. I need to be accountable.

Here is a pin, since all my inspiration comes from Pinterest these days (possibly sad, but extremely true):

Source: thepipersson.tumblr.com via Allie on Pinterest

I think this is my big problem. The stuff I write is rarely as good as I want it to be.

Sometimes I get it just right. Just so perfect I fall in love with that one passage--regardless of whether or not it belongs anywhere in the fine world of literature.

And sometimes, most of the time, I'll get it partially right, or even mostly right, but that one niggling mistake just gnaws at me until I fix it. It's hard to complete anything when you are so set on perfecting every little thing you write down.

I AM GOING TO FINISH THE FOUR NOVELS THIS YEAR SO HELP ME.

This is my commitment to you, blogosphere. Make me keep it.