Fretting Over the Details

I haven’t done much that could be considered “creative” in a while. Of course, this causes me a great deal of worry and stress, because I fear that it’s symptomatic of the full decline of my abilities to write/create anything.

The last thing that I could consider creative would be the character I made for our Thursday night Pathfinder RPG game. I created a very Nordic-like barbarian that I named “Daufi”. Supposedly, based on the myriad web sites I read while picking a name, it means “dumb; mute”. Interestingly, the word “dauthi” means death. I figured I’d start his career with the first name, and switch to the latter as he leveled.

This exercise, though fun, was still unfulfilling. I am getting slightly ahead of myself, though.

After the collapse of our first party of characters in Brad’s game, I had cause to begin thinking about the story ideas that I mentioned here in my last post. Then, whether it was from loss of confidence or my much-feared symptom of reality, I began to believe that I couldn’t actually come up with any kind of story that was more complex than “heroes get together, heroes find clue about villain, heroes defeat villain and take his stuff, repeat.” I mean, I have these fantastic ideas, and damned if I am capable of doing more than thinking of the very basic initial ideas for a story. No conflict (aside from the obvious), no mystery, no… soul.

I thought about the story that had been a dream, and all of the elements that I had written down. I was sure that I could make that make sense.

Sadly, I was stopped flat in my tracks. I had ideas of the bits I dreamed around, but the mere act of coming up with a rough outline to explain how they were connected or told a story fell flat. I tried again and again, to no avail. It began to upset me enough that I opted to take a hiatus from even trying for a while.

Now, I genuinely fear I have created a block in my mind regarding writing, because whenever I think about that story (or any story, really), I shut down and say to myself, “I can’t come up with anything for that story.”

 

…several hours later…

I just woke back up. Somehow, I closed my laptop, took off my glasses, and settled down for sleep, without ever planning it. Indeed, I cannot even recall doing any of it. So, though I am somewhat tongue-in-cheek when I say it, part of me seriously wonders if the writing gods (and my gods in particular) decided to silence my heartfelt, yet tragic, line of thinking.

I’m posting this just to be thorough, since it did start as a writing post. Hopefully, I will see you again much sooner than last time…

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