Writing Blues

I’ve been working on the first book of the Crystal Cove mystery series, Justice in January, for the past couple of months. I finally got all of the plotting done, and now I can work on writing the scenes. It should be a piece of cake.

But it isn’t.

I find myself constantly facing writer’s block. I can’t think of why this is happening, though I’ve toyed with the following theories.

Theory One: I am writing the story from the viewpoint of the the scene’s main character. Since there are about eight main character viewpoints, I have to constantly change the frame of reference for my writing. I personally find this rather fatiguing.

Theory Two: I feel guilty about not working on the Hot Dog Detective series. I thought , when I first contemplated this new project, that a change of stories would inspire me. But I find that I am constantly feeling guilt over not working on the original series.

Then, as the guilt flows over and buries me, I begin to wonder, why am I not working on the Vacillating Vigilante (the next book in the series)? Is it because I don’t have the plot figured out? That can’t be true. I often start a book without having all the details of the plot worked out. Is it because I’ve lost interest in the Hot Dog series? No, I’m pretty sure that’s not the reason.  Is it because I am afraid of the series coming to an end?

That’s when I pause. That’s when I realize that my desire to start a new series of stories is because I am afraid that when I finish The Hot Dog Detective, my writing days are over. I don’t want them to be over. I want to continue, but I am not sure how to accomplish that. You see, I do have a lot of other stories to write, but they are not my stories. They are the stories my alters want to tell.

I don’t know that they will let me tell those stories.

I exist as long as I have my stories to tell. I need the Hot Dog Detective in order to give my life purpose and meaning; I need Crystal Cove to continue giving my life purpose. But I don’t know that I can do that with other people’s stories.

And that fear keeps me paralyzed, unable to write, unable to finish the stories I want to tell.

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