How to stop oneself from writing too much (Do You Know?)
You know that feeling.
That fizzely fizzeling energy more so.
Every word is flowing, ready to go, ready to change the reader’s world.
One with the words, in front of that page. You’re at the right place, doing precisely what makes sense. What you’re meant to do in a way.
Write a story for the people of the world to enjoy.
As many people as possible (0f course).
Therefore, it’s tempting to keep going.
Or until 11pm.
Highway to Fail
It might sound harsh, but for your humble novelist here, pushing it even a little more than planned is THE way to fail my writing goals.
Especially the nearly unrealistic ones!
Since I burnout it all out, words and will to write, I’m on a self-care mission.
No matter my writing drive, when that clock hits 10 pm, or 9pm if the day job stuff has been stuffy-to-the-top like today, I have to stop.
Although it is hard as heck to tame that stubborn writer mind of mine!
Only yesterday, I did the exact opposite of what I need to do – hear that brain, what I need to do – to keep the mojo up and running for a long, long while.
Will I never learn? Yes indeed, fellow writer. I will.
See, today went oh so well.
I don’t mean to brag or anything, it’s just such a wonderful feeling, I can’t help but share it with our whole writing community!
8pm ding dang somewhere on an old pendulum clock (this a lovely, lovely English word, pendulum).
What’s with the pendulum clock now you may ask, dear fellow writer?
Because one was hanging on a wall in my grandparent’s house.
A little house sitting happily on the side of a very long Main street. We could see the horse pension from the kitchen window. My grandmother sat nearby on a comfy rocking chair.
Now that clock lives in my mother’s house, as a mere wall decoration.
The clock did mark every hour and half-hour. In the silence of the old days, without a radio or a tv, the pendulum clock voice must have been sort of comforting.
I wrote a bit about the grandparents of the main character today, maybe that’s why the souvenir came to visit the present.
8pm came, and I stopped. Right in the middle of a sentence too.
Quite frustrating and rewarding at the same time.
All there’s left to do is relax, read a bit, and try not to think about the next sentence.
The next chapter.
The next everything!
Until next time, thanks for stopping by!