I Hit the Wall and the Wall Won

Well, not literally, but yesterday, midway through writing, I just got stuck.  Suddenly, I was second guessing every word I wrote.  It was like I was unable to make a decision about anything without first second guessing it, then changing my mind and writing something else.  After a while, I got to where I wouldn't like that word or sentence either until I didn't even like the direction the story was going.

I stuck it out and put in the 1,000 words for the day quota that I have set for myself (a thousand words of shit but a thousand words nonetheless).  Still uncertain about what I had written, I saved it and waited on the next day to come.

It came, and oddly enough, I carried this indecision into the workplace.  Hell, I'm still doing it now!

It's really pissing me off.  Grow some balls.  Get some confidence.  How bad can it be?

I can't imagine what I could be afraid of.  Failure?

Yeah that's probably it.  Even now these one line paragraphs are killing me.

But seriously, am I that afraid of failure that I would let it stop me from succeeding?

In the words of many great Oklahomans who dare not swear but would rather keep their souls clean by only hinting at it, "F that."

Writer's Sludge

I noticed tonight that like some other times, probably when I'm not too into writing at the moment (possibly also a moment when I'm less than confident about the writing or story), I have a hard time getting the words to flow.  The ideas seem to flow right out of my head and into space as I talk out the next paragraph or two in my head instead of writing themdown, but when I come back to reality and try to write it down, I inevitable stumble around and write something somewhat different.

It's what I would like to call Writer's Sludge.  It's not writers block in the sense that you can keep writing when you have it.  The problem with the sludge is that while you continue to write the words (and/or sentences) they come unnaturaly and in a stuttering fashion.  It's as if you are walking through some kind of slimy swamp to get to the next page, the end of the chapter, or even the end of the story.

This experience is in stark contrast to those times when the words are flowing beautifully.  During those moments, it seems like the writing is perfect.  On rewrites and edits, those sections tend to need the least overhauling.  The words tend to be spelled right, the best words are used, the sentences flow, and the ideas are superb.

But what is it about this sludge that seems to keep me from the beautifull prairie full of flowers and butterflies that results in "perfect" writing?  I have to wonder if other writers experience the same slow downs, what they do to avoid or get out of the sludg, and what they think causes it.