Over writing and self-pressure.....

So I confessed all; after days of agonising, thinking, drafting the words then deleting them. An email to my tutor, Nina, told her that my second assignment wasn't ready, wouldn't be ready and was falling apart at the first draft writing stage; and I mean the first draft.

Every time I sat down, candle lit, radio burbling away via the internet and with the partner safely tucked into bed it all fell apart. It is as though the characters in my head simply walked out of the room on me. I tried several scenarios, starting points and changes in the plot line. I re-wrote the back-story. My main character, a male, was a retired postal worker, shop keeper, farmer etc but no matter how I approached it it all dropped away leaving me hanging in mid-air.

I put everything aside and stepped back. For a few days I thought about stopping the degree completely. This filled me with dread. The thought of all I have learned and experienced coming to nothing felt so wrong.

So I did what felt right. I walked away from the writing and immersed myself in Christmas and the New Year. I have continued to read, that's something I will do until my dying day.

After the decorations were down and I was back to work I emailed Nina and confessed.

It is strange feeling that you are letting down someone you have never met, going off course. She emailed straight back assuring me that I was not the only one and an extension would be fine. It felt like a weight had been shed; two days later the main character became a retired teacher and he, Albert, was born into one thousand words in a single sitting. I could see him, feel his bad knee, a rugby injury, and know that he didn't take sugar.

At the next sitting I got scared at two thousand words - it was going too fast, too much detail, out of control after writing nothing; so I put the piece aside for a few days to let it fallow.....something I love doing because it becomes someone else’s writing and you can see the obvious easily. But also a scary moment, because then you get the "what if I can't see what happens next and they've left again?"

Tonight, I returned to my Albert and his dog and now I am overwriting; going well over the words limit because it feels right. At the point I have stopped, he should be delivering his decision to his daughter, who sits with him in his little thatched cottage, but he isn't. He's sipping his tea, deliberating, being his own man; character. So I have put him aside so that at the next sitting he'll be ready to finish the story and so will I.

Overwriting and honesty seem to be the lessons from this piece; write until the story has finished THEN edit it down to the word limit (or at least close too). Funny how things come along, and with the frustrating, difficult and painful a lesson. Confess as early as possible to your tutor, even if you haven't met them, as soon as possible because the worst kind of pressure can be self imposed and cut off the flow completely.