I am pretty sure this is going nowhere. It’s just a fruitless exercise that is bringing out old demons and making me feel even more pathetic than usual.
By the end of August, I plan to have a 50,000 word, bareboned story. When I started, I had no idea what I was going to write when I sat down at the beginning of this week. I still don’t quite know what I’m writing about…it’s another one of those “write what you know” type of things. It’s an exaggerated account of stuff that I am missing out on. So far it lacks any humor…any real description…exposition…so far, it’s just a bunch of talking heads.
I can get the words out on paper, but I’m not necessarily feeling anything. I kind of feel like the girl in this mess, who I am calling Melody at the moment(yes, it IS because of Melody Pond). This girl flinches at the touch of another human. i flinch at any kind of attention on me that I don’t create myself.
Wow. That did not make any sense.
Which is partly my point. So far, this story isn’t making any sense. I feel ridiculous pouring these words out, like this is an elaborate, exaggerated journal entry of my life.
It is really hard to even think about the ending, or even more of the middle, when I can do absolutely no research on this. I am way too embarrassed just to blurt out the issue, so I have to figure it out on my own.
Sprint 7.2 garnered another 1519 words in one hour.
The total for this week is 8473.
Sigh. I am making an attempt to write.