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this is my journal ... i write it as i go ... it has typos ... it's not perfect ... but then ... neither am i
... minor updates to my bio today ...
May 19, 1999 5:12 a.m.
Sometimes, you just gotta say, "What the [ expletive deleted ]."

I was sitting in my car yesterday, gazing over the story I've been working on lately. And as I read, I began to realize that what I've just done is to write a really good 10,000 words of practice--and that now it's time to dump them all and attack the thing from a different angle. Yeah, it has a plot, and yeah, it has some moderately intriguing characters. But the bottom line is that the entire thing is just not working to create what I want to create.

I still have the same vision.

I still know what the story is about.

And I still love that vision and theme.

It's just that the words on the page aren't getting it done for me. They aren't good enough. Bottom line. And in light of what I've been spouting off about for a couple days now, I know that I have to do something about that.

So I have a couple options.
1. I can scream and moan and denounce myself as too unskilled to write this story. (Thereby leading to a massive bout with depression and a self-fulfilling prophecy). 2. I can ignore my feelings, continue on the current storyline, and force something into the box (certainly as valid of an approach as any, I guess--heck, I've done it before). 3. I can take a deep breath and file it away as a learning exercise, then search the roots of the story for the right approach.

There are days where Brigid has math homework. Let's be frank here . . . while Brigid is quite a bright kid, she doesn't exactly love her math homework. Why? Well, like almost every other kid in America, she finds it hard. And when she's gone down one path and it hasn't worked, she finds it almost impossible to pull back and rethink the thing. And, of course, she gets mad.

Which doesn't help her get her homework done at all.

While option 1 seemed really attractive while I was sitting in the car, and option 2 would make for a quicker end to my misery, option 3 is the obvious answer. It's the answer I (and Lisa) try to counsel our daughter with when she finds something isn't going well. And, despite yesterday's angst, I feel pretty good about it right now.

I think some part of me already knew this because for the past few days I've felt pressure when I sat down to write--a little tickle inside my gut . Things were going on beyond my control. I was nearing the end, and it still just didn't feel right. Something was happening that I didn't understand. It was really a little scary because while I knew I was feeling the pressure, I just could never really figure out why. But today I feel pretty comfortable about it all.

Things will work out. They always do.

This is a good story, and I'm a good writer.

I am a good enough writer to write this story.

I've just got to keep the positive attitude going until I get the kinks worked out. Stay the course. A thousand points of light, and all that. Oops. Forgot. This is the Clinton administration. So maybe I should just lie to myself by saying that I never wrote that draft--or that yeah, I wrote it, but I never read it so have no idea what's in it.

By the way, what is the definition of "draft?"

Before you laugh, did you know that word has at least 16 different meanings?

Which is worse or better, maintaining a positive attitude when you could be moping around, or concocting lies to yourself about your mistakes in order to keep yourself focused enough to move forward? Is there a difference?

Ack! I've spun off course again.


Guess I'll just go write a story.


Have a good one.


PMA doesn't pay the bills, though, Ron.
Daily Persistence is © Ron Collins
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I've thrown away dozens -- sometimes HUNDREDS -- of pages of "finished" story because I began in the wrong place, or needed to introduce a different character, or had the society functioning wrong.
Orson Scott Card
To realize the value of one minute, ask a person who missed the train. To realize the value of one second, ask a person who just avoided an accident. To realize the value of one millisecond, ask the person who won a silver medal in the Olympics.
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