Ruttles

I've managed to write myself into a rut. Not the kind of rut you'd expect either, but the rut of writing x amount of words per day and struggling with more.

Over the past three weeks, I've averaged out at between three and six thousand a day. I get up, go to work, come home and write for three hours. A good habit to get into... except when I want and need to write more.

My inner athelete accepted this challenge, but now is unwilling to be pushed beyond the pain barrier. She wants to watch the end of cricket, read a book, watch a DVD, take a break.

I don't blame her. I've been writing every single day and it's tiring; the constant focus and creativity wears on a body. No amount of cajoling and promises are working. Weekends are usually my high time for writing. 10k is common in one day, more when I'm in the groove. Not this weekend. I've barely done the same for two days. I'm close to the end, but picking my way through the ending choices is tough. And I still haven't decided which way to go to get to the end point I want.

Yeah, yeah, I should trust my characters to know what to do, but they're a little off stride too. I think they're just as tired as I am and I'm so not going to have an Deus Ex Machina step in. I need my characters to be honest with me and themselves.

And yes, its sounds like I'm talking about real people, because to me, they are real, otherwise they'd be two dimensional and that is death for a book.

I think I'll take a moment, an hour, and ponder the quandry.