Stuck

Well, that didn't take long. Here I sit, staring at the screen and completely unable to write a single, coherent sentence. I've been sitting here since, oh, 4:30 this afternoon or so, and while I did take breaks to make dinner and watch an episode of COPS (don't judge me), I think I've managed a whopping hundred or so words since then.

I know exactly what it is. It's self-doubt, and it's got me halfway to crazy. It's that stupid, wheedling voice in the back of my head that has "You'll never succeed in this!" on loop, and at top volume.

That's the exact reason why I haven't told very many people about this little venture of mine, and why I'm keeping this blog on the down-low: I don't want to jinx myself. It doesn't matter how much time or effort I put in, or how well I can write. If I tell more than a handful (I think it's maybe four or five people at this point) of my family or friends, it will crash and burn.

Or maybe I'm just tired. I churned out seven stories at work today, which I think would exhaust anyone's creativity. At this point, I think I'm going to close the laptop and go take a shower.

By the way, that's an AWESOME way to work through writer's block. I can't remember where I read it, but I read somewhere that a shower helps the creative process, because the heat's making the blood vessels in your head expand and improving brain function. I've experienced it firsthand: more than once I've gotten in the shower, only to have an awesome idea that stuck with me. A scene I wrote this week came from inspiration I got during one of my block-induced showers.

When I saw Peter Beagle speak at A-kon (I consider that the turning point for me, when I went from "maybe I could one day do this" to "I will do this, and I will start now") he said that over coming writer's block was a matter of pushing yourself until the words come naturally again. He said not to freak yourself out over one piece, to jump around if need be.

I'm trying to remind myself that breaking the rules, even the rules I heard from him, can result in brilliance.

Don't give up on me yet. I'll get through this. I'm more than 50 pages in; it's too late to stop now.

And away we go

I'll start off right now by saying that I don't know how effective this venture will be. I'm not terribly good at keeping track of a blog, as evidenced by my Livejournal account that has sat inactive for months. :/

But here's the thing: sometimes talking to myself just doesn't cut it. And I don't want to keep bothering Hub by constantly making him talk me down when I have "I JUST CAN'T DO THIS" moments.

So here we are. And I guess some kind of introduction is in order.

My name is L.M. Graham, and I'm a writer (hi, L.M.).

Even though I've never considered myself a 'serious' writer, it's something I've always done. It's not a hobby, but it's not something I expect to profit from, either. It's just a part of me; a big part that, I think, has turned me into an impossible dreamer at best, and an annoying twit at worst.

Ironically, I turned out as a journalist. And while AP style has really affected my work (short paragraphs, yes?), I like to think I can switch between reporting and telling a story that comes strictly from inside my head. Do I enjoy it? Yes, I do. I like to think it keeps that side of my brain from short-circuiting. Goodness knows that "math and science" part doesn't get nearly enough attention.

I started my current... venture, I guess you'd call it, shortly after moving to Texas to take a reporting gig. This is where I'll wax poetic about the process, or maybe just talk to myself. I think either one will work.