Up Late. Up Early.

The most difficult thing about writing, besides finding time, is putting an idea into words.

Oh wait.

These past few days, instead of stumbling forward, pushing through unpointed dialogue and hazy plot points--writing, I go back and clean, edit, revise. Writing when my mind is still foggy on the details is not so much as difficult, than it is torturous. Everything I put on paper feels wrong, out of place. I fear that my prose somehow changed when forced, that the narrator's voice suddenly is something different and foreign. The ideas aren't flowing through my fingers and it feels as if I'm slapping them on the page like some barbarian with a stick.

So instead, I go back and play with what already has been "written."

I've read from authors, agents, books, guides and so forth that revising while writing is a big "no no." Push and shove through the first draft, then suffer the sufferings of revising and editing. Makes perfect sense. Why waste time on playing around with old material when you could write, play with the new? You don't know where you're going until you've reach the end. Why bother trying to tweak things without fully knowing if it needed to be tweaked in the first place.

Great advice, right? Sounds like a plan.

Easier said then done.

Honestly, my issue at the moment has to do with involvement. I've been so busy with school, family, work--life--that when faced with my imagination, I can't quite grasp the same emotional drive that had overcame me before. Everything I type out feels lame compared to the paragraphs prior. Don't want to sound my age (woppin' 22) but, it sucks. It sucks hard. I know the technicalities of the plot, but I'm detached from the characters. How am I suppose to write well developed people when I don't even feel for them? How am I suppose to draw readers to these characters when I can't even draw them to myself?

These are the issues I face weekly, trying to dive back into my draft. These are the flickers of moments where I want to bang my head against my keyboard, praying something better will appear. Actually anything other than what I had written before is better.

But I march on. I have to believe that I'll find my groove once again, that I'll be like this with my protagonists and we'll be hand in hand--well, I'll be dragging them along, while they kick and scream. So, it's time to go and write.