When I first got out of Clarion West, I bemoaned my lack of process, or more specifically, I worried about what my new process was going to look like. Six months later, I think I have a stronger idea of how I work. I also have a solid idea of what my weaknesses are.

I work really well–in the moment.  That moment does not come every day, and I no longer try and force that. I do force myself to write at least 4 days a week, but if the other 3 are uninspired, so be it. I also tend never to work at the same time each day. I’ve noticed a tendency to enjoy working most in the afternoon, but I don’t hold hard and fast to it.  As long as I produce, I don’t feel too guilty about pooping on the two most cardinal and widespread bits of writing-habit directive.

Once I am in a story, I muck around and work very well, even if the story is a complete and total washout.  Once I am in a story, I work more than 3 days a week easily, I work whenever I can snatch the attentive time and space, and I flail around and shape and write and rewrite until the sucker is as done as I can make it.

But here’s where I am weak: titles* and starting a new story. Case in point: I just finished a piece and I am actually pretty happy with it. It has begun its rounds at the magazines along with my other active, homeless pieces. Great. Right?

However, the thought of starting a new piece again leaves me slack-jawed, slightly nauseated, confused, and filled with anxiety. It seems like every time I finish a new story, I seem to have forgotten entirely how to start another story–and no number of writing prompts, seeds, or hours staring at my idea list in my journal can convince me otherwise.

I know, it’s totally unreasonable. And illogical. That’s why I am having, aside from the discomfort of the discomfort, discomfort with my discomfort.

So far, I have managed to always start something else, but only after a few days to a week of pushing/depression/desperation/apathy/bargaining. What’s the deal with that? I mean, I can learn to trust this part of my process, I guess, but what’s with the making myself miserable in order to earn a new idea? Is this why writers have such a bad reputation for drinking? Is my Jewish half asserting its thousand year mastery of genetically-induced navel-gazing and guilt? Is it my internal clock? Is it a personality flaw? Are these just, really, rhetorical questions?

Well, at least someone I love is doing better with all this:  I opened my late issue of the SFWA magazine to see that one of my beloved CW classmates, Kristin Janz,  had made the recommended reading list for the Nebula 2008 pre-ballot for her very cool, kinda-meta “Veritas Nos Liberabit“.  It’s a great read and I am so very pleased for her.

* I’ve mentioned that countless times before and have since gotten some awesome guidance on the subject which I promise I will share in another post.