Disturbed

So... I haven't tried editing my book since the last post.. (Isn't there an embarrassed Emoticon on this thing??)

Anyway, in other news....

Sharon is still in a flux of confusion. Will there ever be anything else? I'm in a relationship, that I have finally decided is going nowhere. I can't see a future with us together. Hell, I can't even see a future with myself. What's really sad is, we have gone from being a couple that fought constantly, because we were incompatible, to a couple who has given up even the fighting. We don't really argue anymore. It's like we've both just given up. He is miserable, I know. Why does he stay with me? Is it because he feels he can't have anybody else? Is it the pressures of getting older? I don't feel insulted by this, the idea that he might be staying with me because he feels he has no other choice. I feel I deserve this. I feel responsible for his misery. I feel that if we break up now, and he doesn't find anyone else, and start a family, that it will be my fault, for wasting his time. Never mind the fact that I have the same fears. Never mind the sick reasons that I must stay with him. And what are these reasons? I have become such a weak person. Ironic. I have aways had such a complex about being weak. Because of my size, maybe? People would always look at me and say aw.....so cute, and so fragile! I took offence to this. But it turns out to be true. I am weak. Emotionally. I am such a recluse, and yet I am afraid to be alone. How fucked up is that?

In addition to this, I seem to have an immense guilt complex, and I seem to feel guilty about this, because how arrogant is it of me, to feel so guilty about the idea of leaving him, that I just stay in this miserable relationship? I mean, people get over it. He would get over it. Where does this arrogance come from? But the fact remains, I cannot stand the idea of hurting him in the short term ... to think of it, makes me want to stab myself. Disturbing? Well, I sometimes think I am disturbed, so that fits. With every day that passes, I feel another step towards the end. And the worst of it is, I'm dragging him down with me. Why won't he just leave me?

Where To Go From Here

So...once again, it's been a very long time since I wrote last. I'd rather not give an update on my boring life just now. What I want is to rant about my lack of writing skills.

I've taken a long time off from my little book project. Did I mention that I've basically finished my first draft? Yeah, that was how many months ago? I've lost track. I decided to take some time off before I started working on my second draft. There was of course a completely logical reason for this. I've read that it's a good thing to do, to take time off between drafts, to clear your head, come back to your story with a fresh mind. Only, I'm not sure that's the real reason. What is the real reason? I don't know. That I'm a slacker? That I'm lazy? An under-achiever? Or maybe just not smart enough, or talented enough? Not creative enough. I felt hopeful for a little while, that maybe I had finally realized what I am meant to do with my life. I'm 32 and I still haven't come close to figuring that one out. Everyone I know has their shit together more than me. Okay, maybe not my drug-addicted cousin. But at least he's figured out that he needs rehab. I have no idea what I need.

My lack of motivation aside, I also have no idea how to go about working on my second draft. It needs a LOT of work. You can barely call it a story as it is now. It's a collection of scenes and when you put them all together, it's like a 500 page novel. But I'm not sure it even makes sense. I know there's a lot of scenes I need to add, and probably a lot of scenes I need to delete. I also know how I can re-work sentences to make them better and check my spelling. That is all obvious stuff. What I don't know, is how to make this story into a work of art. I don't want it to be just be some mediocre story. I want it to be brilliant. And then I get scared. Because then I start thinking about how not brilliant the premise of my story is. How not brilliant I am.

My anxiety and insecurities aside, I really don't know what to do! I feel so overwhelmed with the idea of re-working my story. There's too much information. Too many pages. Too many words. How can I keep it all straight? Then there's questions like, was it the right thing to do, to write this whole book from the first-person point of view of my main character? Or should I have mixed it up a bit? How much backstory of my major characters do I give? Did I give too much? Not enough? Did I deliver their stories in a really unimaginative way? I really just want to scream.

And speaking of wanting to scream, why do I feel so RESTLESS? I feel restless, but I feel tired. Always. I need a change, but I'm so afraid. And on that depressing note, I am going to sign out.

Will Stephen King Publicly Announce That I Can't Write After I Publish a Novel That Sells Millions?

Wow. My last post could be a book. A really crappy book. I think this will be a short post. It's quarter to ten and I am wiped. I hate getting up at 5:45 AM. It's just wrong.

Current Events: Last night was our staff 'Christmas party', in February. We went to dinner theatre, and it was mildly entertaining. I can't believe it was four hours long.

Ranting: I don't know if I mentioned this, but I'm a big Twilight nerd. And today I read something on the Internet that pissed me off. And not really because I'm such a huge fan of the series, but because of the principal of it. Stephen King is apparently going around like a big shot saying that Stephanie Meyer sucks. I am so tired of people saying that Twilight is garbage because it doesn't feature teens fornicating. But even if he criticized the premise of the book, that would fine; annoying, but fine. But to basically say that a fellow writer can't write worth a shit, seems petty to me. Who defines what it means to be a good writer? Isn't a writer someone who tells stories, to entertain the readers? Well, I would say that Stephanie Meyer's readers are entertained, to say the least. And let's face it, Stephen King's work - not exactly literary prose.

Over and out.