Tyranny of the Half-Full Page

For the first time a more than a month it's been quiet on the paying-work front, meaning I've had time for other projects. And while I'm sure Reality Chick thinks I've been locked in a room fiddling with my naughty bots, I've actually been back at work on my spec script.

I normally find that taking a break from a project means I return to it with a new perspective and filled with fresh ideas. This time, however, I'd spent just a little too long away from the keyboard.

I guess most of you will be familiar with the origin of this blog's title - it's the crippling fear you face when starting a writing project, the chill emotion that means you spend what seems like an eternity staring at the page without actually writing anything. Taking that first step and getting something - anything - down is usually the way to beat it. Unfortunately, I found the fear had mutated slightly ... Now I was gripped by an icy feeling not about what I was going to write, but about what I'd already completed.

No matter which way I turned it, the inescapable truth was that everything I'd written so far was shite.

I was going to have to start all over again.

Utter rot, of course. Sure, bits of it clanked like an armoured jogger but most of the early stuff was actually fine.

As with its Blank Paged cousin, this tyranny was to be beaten by just getting on with it and writing something. Once I'd got started I was away, and as of today I've finished a crucial section that sets up some lovely, fun material for next time.

Better yet, those early doubts cast light on a few previously hidden pitfalls. If not for that new perspective and that old fear I'd probably still be blind to them.

So distance is good. Too much distance is bad. Unless it's good.

(And it's that kind of writing, ladies and gentlemen, that tells me it's time to stop for the day.)