A natural ebb and flow in the creative process.

Today, after several days of struggling with a persistent and malicious case of writer's block, I was finally able to crank out a page and a half of conversational, relaxed summary.

It felt so good, and the material's actually something I'll be proud of in a few hours when I'm more awake.

He neglected to write down his idea, preferring to finish his toast instead.

Silly me. I kind of thought after Wednesday's revelation I'd be able to go into a writing fury with my new-found direction. Instead, life went on with the usual writer's block, worrying about American history homework and my math exam and my sister's visit next weekend.

I had imagined an outpouring of dialogue and narrative, but instead, I've just been tediously (and slowly) outlining character backgrounds, working up to a new summary draft.

I won't get too spiritual on you, but I do kind of wonder what I'm doing wrong.

This is my prayer in the desert, when all that's within me runs dry.

I don't really know how to explain what happened last night, but I'll try.

If you like to write, you probably understand what I mean when I say that some things inspire me to write in a sort of uncontrollable way. Certain songs, or movies, or games, or conversations with my friends... It's really a pretty fun way to live, with your imagination running rampant and free. But last night, our campus praise band played this song at Campus Church, and, not for the first time, a story began to take shape in my mind.

I don't know if it's the lyrics or the way the song sounds, or just the way God can move through things like music, but I realized last night why I was having such awful writer's block the past few days.

The story I'd had in my head wasn't making much sense. My characters didn't seem realistic, the plot was hitting a brick wall, and I had no motivation to try to work it out. I wasn't ready to give up, though, and now I see why God wasn't letting me give in. He had something different in mind, and I'm totally cool letting Him take the reins.

I don't know if that made sense. Hopefully, I got my point across.

So again goodnight. ...This bad begins and worse remains behind.

I haven't really touched my novel since the end of November. I don't really feel guilty about this, or like I've abandoned a project I'm really quite proud of. I've emailed it to a friend, and I plan to email the file to the rest of my closest friends tomorrow. (I don't know why I don't just do it now. I guess I'm just too lazy.)

The thing is, I knew I'd have to take a step back. I knew I was going to be exhausted, but I didn't anticipate leaving my story unfinished for nearly two weeks. The fact is, if would just sit down and do it, I could tie up the first installment of my novel (because my story is much more intricate and epic than 50,000 words) in one sitting. One long, painful, and back-breaking sitting, but one sitting nonetheless. I just need to do it.

I wonder if there's a procrastination gene I inherited? It's completely possible, right? Right?!