blockedI’m completely blocked on my new novel. I don’t know why. I just don’t think I’m approaching it correctly.

So I’m panicking and trying desperately to think of another idea. And the more I search, the more elusive it becomes.

Lynn Freed wrote about this brilliantly in her book, Reading, Writing , and Leaving Home:
“I forgot everything I knew about ideas and fiction. But desperation and vanity does this to a writer: It makes her stupid. In fact, finding an idea for a novel is easy. I came up with one idea after another. In this case, coming up with an idea for a book was almost a guarantee that whatever I wrote to fit that idea would falter. The more obsessed I became with chasing down a plan, with wresting the idea into the confines of an abstraction, the more the real fiction eluded me.”

I’m in the throws of what she describes.

I’m hoping a solution will come to me.

In the meantime, I’m a bit crabby.

OK, a lot crabby.

So I’m cleaning the house, badly. And painting. I like to paint. I try to capture my family. I’ve done portraits of my children and pictures of us at the beach. And then I do lots of abstracts because I can’t draw. But I like playing with the colors.

I’m hoping it will all lead to something….

photo by (flickr)


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