As I bang my head against my computer desk I realize it’s probably not helping. Funny thing is, no matter how hard I bang, the words I need aren’t appearing on the screen. I think that’s highly unfair. Erato, the muse of erotic poetry and the closest I can get to what I’m doing now, is laughing. I’m certain I can hear her.
I can tell the story, that’s not the problem. I can plot it and play with it and plan it out until it’s all nice and neat. Everything’s ordered. Everything works. I’ve got a story! A wonderful, pretty, finished, story.
I just can’t tell you what it’s about. My order’s gone. I forget key points, but are they really key? I mean should I put them in because they’re secondary characters. But what if the story only makes half sense because they’re not there? Or will it muck it all up if I do put them in, and throw off whatever flow I manage to organize?
OK, that didn’t actually make me feel better, but this blog did. I think I’ll put the 1 1/4 pages it’s taken me a week to write away for now. I’m sure there’s something else I can write in the meantime.