It’s all about ME!
A week ago I was stuck on my current work in progress. I knew what the novel was about and I’d worked out a chapter by chapter plan, but actually writing it was like wading through porridge. My dialogue was flat, the links between paragraphs was clunky and the characters had somehow lost their spark. I was in a slough and didn’t know how to get out into the sunlit uplands of a free-flowing narration.
All the usual things had been tried, short sharp bouts, longer writing sessions, going for walks, writing down anything that came into my head. Not even the rubbish this produced could clear the blockage.
Tempted to give up on the whole thing, I couldn’t be bothered to bring my problem to my writing group. I should have known better, because that’s where it all happened.
It was, as I said in the title, something he…
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