Bound and Determined, Regardless

There's absolutely nothing to write at all. I wish that I wasn't so behind. It's as if I've jsut begun all over again. By midnight tomorrow, I'm supposed to have 25,000 words written, my current count being at 19,694. I have no idea what I'm going to write. I have no diea if anyone's going to like what I have to write. I desperately want my story to be heard and known by many, so they could dive into this world with me. I feel exactly like how a person would feel when they're under pressure, except, it's pressure that I'm putting on myself. I need to keep telling myself that this stupid novel is going to be written, and written well, but I feel as though each story I am writing is written in the same, dry manner. I can't seem to use any adjectives or adverbs. I love those, a lot.

I love how descriptive they are, how they bring an expression to a piece of work that nothing else could. These stories are all action to action, without much feeling, without that pizzazz to light it up or give it an ornamental flare. It seems dry, even though there is so much action going on. How does this person feel? Why was this action done? What did the action make people feel? Who is feeling it, and why? Is there some past event that would lead up to how a person could be affected by the action? What is the smell of the action? The taste?

I am lacking figurative language, and in my department, is the entire reason for this language, these people. Everything is descriptive, everything has a sight, a taste, a sound, a touch, a smell, a feeling. It is all connected to this universal underpinning, called Om. Perhaps I'm lacking the questions that I need to be asking myself. Perhaps I just need to jump up at scream at the world and tell it that I am Michael and I am NOT going to allow myself to be deluded by myself in the thinking that this has to be perfect or impressive.

This is MY story, my novel, my people, my language, my soul, my drive, and forbid thsoe people from my sight if they end up hating what I have created. This isn't for them, this is for me. A way to cosntruct myself, my beliefs, my ideas. With this novel, I want to change the world, but I feel that if I'm not feeling it, neither will my reader. If I am not crying with my character, then I am writing it wrong. I need to scratch it, given how much I wrote, and rewrite it, and add in the Who, the What, the When, the How, and the Why... to everything! All has a reaso nand a purpose. All stems back to an original action that led into a chain reaction of cause and effect.

I am wasting away each time I write because I know that I am trudging on, rather propsering. It all seems to oserious, too stiff, too unrelaxed, which is a flaw of my own personality. I keep worrying about the word count. I keep aiming for 60,000 words, my personal goal, but it's never going to happen if I don't let this novel flow to me. Right now, within the past 10 minutes, I have written all of this, simply because I'm flowing my mind, my attitude, my thoughts. How I do get that to happen with my novel?

Am I convincing myself that this is harder than it really has to be? So what if I make a mistake, it won't be perfect, it is only a rough draft. "But it has to make sense to me," I keep telling myself. Last year, it all amde sense to me, and I pulled that novel out of thin air. The words literally came to me. This time, I am under pressure because it is a novel of something that has been my greatest focus in life for half a decade. It's all here, inside my head, and it just needs to come out. I have lightning figners, I could type and type and type, so long as I had mental content inside to be pushed out onto paper.

Sometimes, these stories come to me, most times, I have to sit down and rack my brain to figure out how it all comes together. I'm lacking this liberal feleing, this relaxed state of mind. I am worrying myself about the goal. Forget the goal, seriously. I need to focus on the content of the word, not the word content. If I don't win, so what, I've written this wonderful peice of work that could still be finished. I compelted my goal last year without any hesitation, or problems. Perhaps I need to go back and think about what was going on for me when I wrote some of those stories. Perhaps I need a refresher on the extent of my writing abilities.

As it looks right now, I am lacking in adjectives, descriptions, tone, feleings, and emotions. I am lacking in beautiful figurative language, and I think I may have ah unch as to why. In my language, I haven't really developed much figurative language. With that, it all comes from culture and language. how can I create figurative language in Anikuwinér if the culture and language isn't complete? And so that is where I'm at right now. I am striving to push out htese stories to build some tpye of culture and create words and expressions of it, but I don't want to use English ones, because those wouldn't be correct ways to say it in Kunérian tongue.

But that's the issue, isn't it? Language is supposed to be universal, so an expression in English might mean the same, but use completely different words and anecdotal origins. Funny how that happens, huh? I think, from now on, I'm going to writei n my tone of voice, the one that is of an English lover, one who has a pretty strong command of his native language. I have been so consumed by the outside world and all of the dramas of my life and consumed by thinking more than I should, that I have been essentially blocking myself from writing.

Even now, I'm tired and I'd like to sleep. I keep telling myself, "Oh, I have 4-5 thousand words to write? I'll make that up eventually," but each night I'm telling myself that. It seems that I'm evading this novel. I am torn between myself about whether I should continue or not, and if it'll matter? I've done so much, and honestly, I've been so depressed and tired lately. I've even told myself today that I'm going to quit, and that I'm done. That saddens my ears and my heart, honestly, and it makes me want to cry, but how can I fight htose feelings? I've gotten to the point where I am questioning my initial reason for doing this.

I want it to be great, but will it? What if this is my only shot? What if I write these novels, and through time, people compare how poorly-written they were compared to my next books? Is that something an author has to cope with through the years? Do readers enjoy that fact that it is indicative of how human they are? Perhaps through an author's "eyes," the readers get to watc hthe author grow up, and transform into this exceptional author? I keep thinking in the mindset of a perfectionist, and it's not that way. It's highly unrealistic. I cna't write perfect first novels and continue on that way through te last novels I write. Life doesn't work that way.

I have so much in my head that I want top ush out into the world and say, "Hey! I'm here! Do you hear what I hear? This si what I've come to learn about life. Do you get this?" I want to be able to have everyone understand what I'm saying, and get it, and people adore me for being able ot organzie that thought. And this is truly another big thing that persists on worrying me, what if what I'm trying to convey isn't put out there? What if I write my stuff, and no one gets it but me? Should I point it out very obviously, or will that seem condescending? Should I write manuals and books about the book? What exactly is the best way to write and convey something? Spelling it out perfectly simple, or will that make me look simple?

There must be an unofficial line drawn somewhere, one that only the best, successful authors know. I don't want to write something so intelligent that no one gets it, or something so strange or abnormal, that no one gets it, or something too simple that it jades my attempts, and the readers are left thinking, "That could have been so much greater..." Where... where do I begin with the right novel? How do I get this novel kicking into gear like the last? I tried writing it a couple years ago, and I failed at 3,000 words. I've already written 50,000 words, so I know I can write novels. I think my issue is that I'm psychic myself out, or I'm setting myself up for failure with my ocmplicated emotions and thoughts.

I need to open up word, have a fully ready and relaxed mind, set the mood, and just go, without any distractions. I need to be able to drifti nto my inner planet, and start channeling the very om that sleeps within. It waits to be awaken once more, that primordial expressionistic energy feuling my soul, waiting to become a radiator that pours into my fingers, into the keyboard, and on the screen. These whirling thoughts dream to be record onto paper. Theyl ong for the day when others can grace them with their sight, when they can be shared.

I was meant to write, and before I could even begin, I will have changed my destiny completely. I must fight these pensive thoughts, and just go with it, and not look back. And kick myself every time I think a negative thought. They are thinknig the great "What if?" I never thought it before, but now I see that it is VERY negative thinking, and highly detrimental to my success. No more "What if" thinking. No more telling myself that I msut do this or that. I need to jsut do something, hope for the best, and stay strong in thinking that whatever I write will be the best thing I've ever written.

I will get this novel out. This will be finished. I am destined to write, to change the world through my eyes. I am destined to know great knowledge, feel great feelings, see great sights, and believe in great beliefs. I am destined to live. I am destined to bring the deep om abck to humanity. I am destined to write until I can no longer write. I want this more than anything... I would die to bring the world to my feet for a few moments, just to hear my story. Just to know it, and gain some great peace of mind from it. I was born to live an awful life so I could speak to those in mutual understanding who have also had an awful life.

Each person I meet, no matter how cruel, torturous, or evil their story is, I can relate, and make them feel easy. I can calm them with my non-judgment and positive demeanor. I have to get these words out. I find that any hour of the day, I have to write anything, but I sit not knowign what to write. So for the first time in a long time, I'm going to just write and write and write until I can no longer write, adn see if that cures my blockage. I'm going to see if that helps me in any bit. Because before hte night's over, I will have written so much that it could have counted to wards my word count. Even now, I believe that I've written about 2,000 words. I think to myself, "Wow, Michael. You really can write. There is no block, so what are you waitign for? What is truly going on here?"

I'd sit with myself and say, "I don't know. I want this to be easy. I want this to work out and just flwo through me. i want this all to be a fantasy world where magic is the all and everything is based on an easy world." I would laughed inside and I'd know that hard work will meet me everywhere in life, and the only success I'd get with that is unnoticed success. The type of success a mother would vouch for, yet no other would. Who truly would be satisfied on a soul leve with that type of motherly affection? It empowers you at a young age, but through maturity, you find that it was an illusion all along brought on by unconditional lvoe and ab iased opinion.

I am empowered, so thank you mother and father. Aside from that, I've learned great lessons in life, I've seen great things, known great people, experienced great thing, read of great things... and even ahead of me, there is so much more I've yet to experience that I am craving. I am highly inspired, highly creative, highly intelligent... and I must prove it to the world through my "eyes," my writer's eyes. I must share my story in the form of stories. I must change the world, and in doing so, change the fate of mankind and my wallet... LOL!

I have to keep writing, not soldiering on or trudging through, because this is a sinch; a peice of cake, as they say. This is easy to me. So why am I so stumped? What is going on here? I know all the answers to these questions.. and I think, even after all of this, I'm just going to put my big boy pants on, and write. Write until I can't anymore and it's day time. I'm going to write. I must. I will. I am.