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a story-obsessed epistemophiliac

all I want is to know

writing can be fun!
Meredith gladdecease
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You know how some days it's a struggle to get much of anything written? The words you want just won't come to mind, and the synonyms you can think of just won't do. The dialogue is clunky, the dialogue tags feel repetitive or unnecessary (or both!) but you can't remove them or even you'll have trouble figuring out who's speaking. The plot makes no sense, even though you've written it out three times.

For the longest time, I'd been bogged down by days like that. Weeks like that. It got so frustrating that I didn't even bother to write most days, because at best I'd waste an hour of my time on two sentences, and at worst I'd bring myself to tears.

I wish I'd kept better track of what I was doing. (Like, say, I don't know, using this blog of mine? Or even microblogging with a trackable hashtag.) Because I have no idea when or how, exactly, but not too long ago my writing came back.

I've written eight fics of varying length (500~2000 words) in the last week, five of them today. I had a rough draft ready for scifibigbang a full day ahead of the deadline (very much not like me). I actually finished a fic for queer_fest and posted it on the day I'd been assigned! I wrote a short Carol Marcus-centric piece for where_no_woman back in May, crammed it with my headcanon and opinions on how the AU branching impacted her life and Starfleet as a whole, and I still really like it. (And, in a very rare, very happy occurrence, people who bookmarked it liked it enough to make comments on their bookmark!)

This is strange and wonderful and amazing, and has left me, at least for the last few days, with "happy" as a default state of being. I'd forgotten how that felt.

I hope it lasts.