In my internet wanderings, I have the occasion to read articles by writers, both professional and aspiring, who lament that they are in some creative box at the moment and can't find the hidden door that would lead to their escape. This impasse is nothing like a mere speed bump in their creativity; those are barely worth mentioning, as everyone (regardless of their means of expression) has those. No, these are full-fledged, "I am so stuck it hurts" moments, whether it's in their current piece-in-progress or the ability to conjure up something from the idea machine located somewhere in the gray matter.
I can empathize, even if I cannot share their specific pain. As far as I know, I don't have attention span issues, either. I'm fortunate to have the ability to focus on a particular effort for long periods of time, blocking out the interruptions of life that are the death to any author's productivity. As all writers will tell you, life goes on in spite of the creative effort and even though the Muse is a demanding harpy at times, the dog still needs to be fed, the groceries still need to be purchased and the taxes still need to be paid. I can say this with utmost certainty: ADD isn't my personal demon.
I'm not really a procrastinator, either. If it's on my "to do" list, I don't make up higher priority tasks in order to avoid the inevitable. You won't find me rearranging my closets so as not to face the dreaded blank page. Quite the opposite, actually ... mundane and (but eventually) necessary tasks take a back seat to anything I do creatively. Like many other writers and artists in other media, the need to create is a driving force that can nearly consume one at times. I think that it's that unyielding determination that can eventually consume us, whether it results in the well running dry or spigots are fairly overflowing and cannot be contained.
Organizational skills, I have those in spades. I have a great electronic filing system and I'm near obsessive about following it. I'm not saying I don't have those moments where I run around in the real or virtual worlds, looking for something I misplaced because I failed to file it in its proper place. When it comes to my writing, though, I have a very simple and logical system for maintaining all of my drafts, ideas, notes and other tidbits that would require a filing cabinet if I moved it all to paper.
This electronic filing system I employ may be the source of my serial-starter behavior. The number of works I currently have in early stages of construction is somewhat daunting and while all neatly cataloged in my tidy little virtual folder structure, there is just so MANY of them in this state of incompletion. Let me give you the stats: under the category of works in progress, I have five novels, one non-fiction book, twenty-eight short stories, three screenplays, two novellas and umpteen other types of works. With some disdain, I note that my writing world reflects my reading world, as I have a many books, magazines, journals and the rest all similarly "in progress."
Why I am like this? Part of it is due to the wellspring of ideas which I have somehow tapped and continues to pay out, much like a rigged one-armed bandit. The problem is stopping long enough from dropping coins in new machines until the jackpots finish paying out. Perhaps another (and more revealing) reason is I'm thrilled with the very beginning, but lose that level of fire to carry me through to the end. No matter how little I procrastinate, how organized I am or how many creative ideas are there for the taking, getting to the end isn't easy. But finish I must.
They say confession is good for the soul and perhaps it's also good for the Muse, too. Are you listening, you harpy? And by the way, this piece is finished.
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