Forgive me if my post here is a bit flat. I've been in my head for nearly four hours now, writing and trying to explain elements in the story which are not easily explainable. I finished two very difficult scenes today, ones that I was not really looking forward to because I knew they would be tough.
This is right about the furthest point in a novel I have ever written. I get to this point - the explaining point - and my confidence takes a side step. In the past, it checked out all together. I loose steam, loose the drive. I loose faith. My inner critic whispers in my ear, letting me know that I was dumb to think I could write a novel. "Who the hell are you to write a novel?" he says. "Your ideas are stupid. They don't hold water. Anyone who bothers to read this crap that you're writing is just going to laugh. Or worse, they won't say anything at all and change the subject." My critic is very convincing. Ask my three other novels. They'll tell you.
My critic definitely showed up today. He sat behind me on our bed and laughed under his breath when I tried to explain what was happening to these kids. He told me my dialogue sucked, that my idea was juvenile and that I was never going to get anywhere.
Then I punched him in the face and kept writing.
Is what I wrote any good? Honestly, I have no idea. But I wrote it. I got past the explanation scenes. I got past the doubts and kept writing. Maybe I'll go back and read it later, see what I have, but I think I'll not do that for a while. My inner critic might come back for revenge. For now, he's nursing a broken nose and a broken ego. Serves him right.
Today's Word Count: 3,647
Total November WC: 17,625
Words to go to hit 50,000: 32,375
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