Switching Stories

I've been in a writing fuddle for the past month.

I started a new manuscript on January 1. Since then, I've written approximately twenty pages. That's it.

I've been trying not to think about it. It was the holidays; I went on vacation; I got sick; I got offered some freelance work to do on top of the day job. And it just won't stop snowing, so I'm shoveling my driveway like twice a day. Who has time to write, right?

When I put it in black and white, you can see how wrong this is. Shoveling instead of writing? Shoveling? Really? Come on, Abby.

So I've taken a hard look at it and I think I need a new story. This one just isn't... giving me what I need. I've been on a few dates with it and I like it fine, but I'm not ready for a long-term relationship yet. Maybe I will be, someday - I'll certainly keep its number handy. But right now I'm not feeling that zing.

This is a hard decision, but after you've written for a while you know the feeling. It's a lot like love. My last manuscript intrigued me at first, then sort of fascinated me. Then I wrote a pivotal scene at the end of Act One and I was head over heels. I saw the story when I closed my eyes at night, I daydreamed it on the commuter train, I walked two inches off the ground at the office. It made me tingly all over.

Sometimes it takes a little while, but it has to come. And if it doesn't, what are you doing it for?

So now I have the task of closing my eyes and dreaming up a new story. Just letting my mind go where it will, and coming up with something. The life of a writer is hard, isn't it?

But first, I have to go put away the shovel.