Yesterday, I finished a second draft of a story. I had been working on it since September, when the kid went back to school and I got some more free time during the week. I had been sticking to my paradigm of writing, which is to outline the story, and then, you know, do it – write the thing. There’s nothing special there, I have been following this pattern since the summer, and it’s been a help. I have been getting ideas and drafts down on paper. Whether they are good or not is a completely different discussion.
Anyway, so when I complete a draft, normally, there is a feeling of accomplishment. You know, I got something done. Not like a huge feeling, like I won the big game. More like, I was able to put the Kallax shelf together by myself; that type of accomplishment feeling.
So, yesterday, when I finished the second draft… I didn’t have that feeling. That feeling of accomplishment didn’t come over me. What I felt was like taking the garbage out. Something happened, but nothing I am proud of.
I don’t think it’s the story’s fault. At this moment, I like the idea, but that doesn’t mean it will see the light of day. I could read the thing again, and hate it. Or, I could see it needs another draft.
As I thought about it, I guess what this most closely feels like is a bad rehearsal for a show. And I love rehearsing. I think I like rehearsing more than I like performing. I like trying out ideas, and seeing what the other performs do, or how they react. I like when someone changes things slightly, and that causes me to trying something new in return. That type of working makes me feel like I am being creative, and makes the rehearsal feel fulfilling.
Maybe that’s it. It was a bad rehearsal draft. I might need to listen to my gut. It might be a bad draft.
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