Ball of Confusion

The problem with books about writing is that a lot of writers write good books about writing. Because they are written by professional writers writing about something they love (writing), the books are usually persuasive and present compelling arguments for whatever arguments the book is trying to compel you toward. They might even have good tips or advice.

The problem is, if you read a lot of books about writing in a short amount of time – which I have – they can also turn you into a ball of confusion. You start second guessing yourself every time you power up the computer. “Well Stephen King says I should…” or “Janet Evanovich never…” or “AACK! I’m not following the seven scene design spiral of plotting before heading off to the jungle and being run over by a train approach! I must rewrite!”

Then you dissect things you haven’t even written yet, decide it’s all crap, and go off to hunker down in a corner and eat carbohydrates.

When I say “you” there, I mean, “me”. Yes, at some point over the past couple of weeks, I’ve turned into a massive ball of confusion. Just as the hero of the Kafka novella wakes up to find himself a cockroach, I have woken to find myself trapped in a miasma of second guessing constructed by my own desire to learn my craft and progress towards my goals.

Or I could just be over-thinking the whole thing.

I think. Maybe. Could it be? Probably.


Yes. I am definitely over-thinking.

I guess.

So here’s what I’ve decided I’m going to do. I’m going to step away from the books about writing and just, um, write.

Then I might eat carbs.



  1. yeah, carbs!!!!

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