creature droppings...

Like I said, I want to become a published author. Yay me...to do that I need to write a book. Well, let me clarify. I need to finish a book.

In the two or so years since I've rediscovered my love of writing, I've started probably (dramatic pause) ten stories. Two of which have since joined together and produced an offspring which is now on the higher end of my 'to do' list.

Now when I say that I don't finish a book, the problem isn't necessarily that I don't know where I want the story to go. Sometimes that's the case due to a lack of fully exploring a potential story. If there's not enough depth to it, then you won't be able to fill up an entire book. No, it's bigger than that...I truly seem to lack the motivation to finish. I feel like some creature of the night which swoops down, picks up these characters and drops them in the middle of a forest, never looking back to see if they make it out or even caring whether or not they do.

I also seem to have some notion that my inability to consistently finish reading a book is linked to my inability to finish writing a book. I may be crazy, but it makes sense in an odd id-driven world.

What I've mentioned above is one of the reasons why I'm taking this approach; blogging openly about my pursuit. I may be making a little more work, keeping up with writing a novel and blogging, but the potential payoff is worth it if it keeps me in check.

So next time, I'll assess my tools and eventually we'll get down to brass tacks.