Sometimes you have to face your problems, and sometimes you have to pack up and leave. Tonight, I packed up and left. I spent a while first staring at my screen and my novel notes, but still couldn’t make any progress with the stuff.
I told my wife that I was heading out, I grabbed my backpack, and I sat my ass in a coffee shop where I didn’t have Internet access or hungry pets or dirty dishes or people I knew to talk to.
It worked, for the most part. I’m now in the second stage of planning this novel, which is sorting through the notes I’ve jotted down and making less random bits out of it all. I’m getting rid of the stuff that needs to go and solving problems and answering questions and coming up with a few new things where I wasn’t able to before. Things are looking up. This is the first big project I’ve started in a very long time, so I’d like to think I’m going into it with a different skill set, but I also would have thought that a bit more experience would make it easier. It doesn’t. If anything, it’s harder than it was before to come up with an idea and run with it. Rather, it’s easier to see why the ideas aren’t worth running with in the first place, and so I bin a lot of it, telling myself that I can do better.
I suppose that’s a good thing, and a sign of progress, but man does progress ever slow you down sometimes.