it takes time

I wish I wrote faster. Sometimes I feel a little frustrated with how long it takes to write. I started playing with some new characters last April. That’s four months (and three writer’s notebooks) ago. I wish the story were drafted. But it’s not. I have a collection of scenes, snippets from the story world. 15,906 words. I don’t have the story.

I’m still playing and discovering and building.

I tell myself to write 1000 words each day and the story will be finished in a few weeks. It doesn’t work this way though. I can write 1000 words a day, but that doesn’t mean I keep them. That doesn’t mean that the scene is going to stick around and be put into the story. It just means I collected 1000 more words.

I’m still playing and discovering and building.

I tell myself just to write through the story. Start at the beginning and write to the end. It doesn’t work this way though. I try to write through, but I’m not sure where I’m going and before I know it, I’m turning circles in the deep dark lost place. I can write the story straight through, but that doesn’t mean it’s the story that needs to be written. It just means I wrote an old story.

I’m still playing and discovering and building.

I tell myself to be patient. It takes time to grow a story. I can rush it and write faster, but that doesn’t mean it will save me time (or agony) in getting to the real story. The story is evolving. It is growing while I’m taking a walk or doing the laundry. It is finding its way to the surface when I write down the wrong trail or when I play with a sketch in my notebook. It is there, waiting for me.

I’m still playing and discovering and building. I’m thankful it takes time. And I’m going to enjoy the process.

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