The time I hate most as a writer is when I get a good idea that just can’t wait. It is like I get tied to Moby Dick and must let the damned thing pull me all over “creation” until I finally cut my way free by getting it all out of my system and onto paper. It’s a lot easier when I just sit down to write something because I want to. But this creative frenzy stuff if for the birds!
Writer’s block is never a problem for me. If I can’t make any progress, I just write something else. There’s always going to be something that is ready to flow. Of course, the problem then becomes the backlog of 50,000 partially finished stories and nothing complete. Completion is the hard part for me. I get interested in a new project or just run out of interest in an old one and have a devil of a time forcing myself to ride it out to the end.
Fortunately, I’ve had some hard taskmasters in the past, and they have instilled in me the ability to put my personal feelings aside and get the job done. I hate that. So, I use it sparingly, and only when I begin to feel guilty that I’ve gotten so close to finishing something that I’m depriving the world of a wonderful reading experience. (You have to play to your ego, or you’ll never get it finished!) Then, I begrudgingly acquiesce to the demands of my public – that one reader in Iowa who actually cares if I ever write anything again or not – and suffer through the anguish of actually bringing the piece to a close.
Which I think I just did.