The Never-Ending Story?

Ever have a story that just won't go away? It could've lain dormant for months, you've nearly kissed it good-bye, and all of a sudden, WHAM! A character pops into your head and says something pithy that sends you on a desperate hunt for scratch paper, regardless of where you are and what you're doing.

Those darn characters. No consideration at all, I tell ya. The worst is in the shower; writing with soap works so much better on cars than it does on bathroom tiles. Especially if you use liquid soap.

I've been working on a story for, oh, a couple of years now. (In ink - much more permanent than liquid soap.) I like the story, and I'm absolutely devoted to the main character. He can be a tease sometimes, hanging around on my mind without particularly offering any great insights or the abovementioned pithy comments, but I keep researching the times and settings of his life and kept plugging away at the writing. I thought I'd made a pretty good draft of Part I, and then the new Thomas Pynchon book, "Against the Day", came out. Reading it, I just wanted to shred my Part I into a million tiny pieces.

What a fool I was for pursuing such a linear plotline! What was I thinking, using omniscient third-person narrative so restrictively?! And on, and on, and on. Dammit, Pynchon, you're a genius, but that long shadow of yours sure can be a bitch when it falls directly on my feeble attempts at literature.

Eventually, I got over it, remembering that every story has its own best plotline and narration. Whew! What a relief. Beware comparing yourself to the writers you love; you really are your own worst critic.

But I think self-criticism is something that happens to writers when our brains aren't occupied enough with the actual work of writing. I probaby wouldn't have been nearly so self-flagellant if I'd actually written anything for my story within the few months previous to reading "Against the Day". But I hadn't, so I was already feeling somewhat unworthy, research aside.

The trick here is to celebrate the daily victories. I mean really, when you work a forty-hour-plus job, and with all the other demands on people's time, just be happy that you even have the energy to think about writing. Pat yourself on the back for doing some research. Reward yourself with chocolate for doing a ten-minute writing exercise. Did you actually write some of the story? Good lord, go out and get laid!

Okay, so I'm exaggerating for comedic effect. But the point remains. I'm not going to berate myself anymore for not having the Great American Novel written and published by the time I'm 30. I'm just glad that I'm working on a story at all. Let it take years, if it has to; this character rocks!