Anything to get out of this Slump

I'm overcome by frustration with myself recently. Writing feels like two steps forward and one back. I finished "Flowers for Lily" and have done some final edits on "Angelfish" and "Monologue", but there's still no forward motion done on Carnal Jesus. I'm starting to feel a little hopeless about it; I know what it is, I know where it's going and even how to get there, yet I still somehow can't get the words on the page.

I'm tempted to put it on the backburner and move on with life for a little while, but I can't help that overwhelming feeling that if it doesn't get finished -now- it will have been wasted effort. It feels like something that should have been finished a year ago. I was going to Nanowrimo it, and that never happened--November was full of too much schoolwork.

The first month of classes is primetime to finish this novel. Before I get bogged down in assigned reading, and before papers start being due.

I was talking to Crispy about this the other night. He's an amazing beta reader and friend, and is always there to kick my ass and tell me to get moving. He's been after me to finish this for months, and he has a point. I need to trust in my natural abilities enough to just get some words--ANY words--down. I know the story. I know what's happening. I know the characters. This story has been my LIFE for three years. So I need to just have faith, pound it out, let it rest, and then edit it mercilessly.

There was a time in my life that I could write 5,000 words a day easily. I pounded out a 30,000 word novel in a week once. It was crap, but it was finished. I need to allow myself to write badly again. That'll be good for me.

So I'm going to try it. Wish me luck. Wish me wordcount.

In other news (taking a quick break from the writing; it's coming, but coming slowly. Since midnight last night I've pounded out a little over 1,000 words), I have my first query out in years. GlimmerTrain magazine is looking at "Monologue" right now. As soon as I can afford the postage, I'll be mailing "Angelfish" out to a handful of markets; I think it might find a home at the Gettysburg Review or Ploughshares. Yeah, I shoot for the stars. Still, it's that optimism that keeps me floating sometimes.

I'm going to need to buy more cigarettes if I'm going to keep at this novel at the pace I am now. People don't realize how physically exhausting it is to write, especially expository narrative; dialogue and action roll out fast enough, but a few hundred words of description can take you hours.

I've been at this about four hours this morning and think it may be time for a nap.