Anxiety Abounds

This is just a rambling and pointless post, but ZOMG(!). I am aflutter with anxiety, struck with stress, and trembling with trepidation. (Not to mention annoying with alliteration.)

For starters, yesterday I sent off the polished-until-I-couldn’t-stand-looking-at-it-any-longer WIP to my betas. I’m pretty sure it has problems, but I just can’t see them anymore. So now I await whatever horrible things (like my writing in general) that they find.

Actually, this is a fairly minor stress compared to my second headache-inducing plague – the next WIP.

See, I started this YA dystopian earlier this year. I planned it all out and wrote 16k before deciding NO. It just wasn’t working. I loved the idea, but the plot just was not gelling. So I put it aside for a while, only to pull it out during the First Annual Purgatory Mash-up where my opening got some very nice comments. Nice enough that I started thinking “hmm… maybe I should try it again.”

So here we are. Just me, my mostly discarded plot outline from last time, and about 2500 usable words. I might be able to make the plot work, after all, though attempting it’s going to require a nice drink to keep me from breaking down. But as for making the story work? Oy.

I still love the idea, but it’s not an easy one. This will be the novel that pushes me, that tries me. If I can pull it off, I think it will kick ass. But I’m utterly lacking the confidence. I just don’t know if I’m capable, and I know the only way to find out is if I try, but discovering that I can’t pull it off will hurt – because I love the idea so much and because writing it is going to be excruciatingly difficult.

So here goes, because the only way to grow in any endeavor–writing included–is to push yourself. I will push. And wait, anxiously, for my betas to get back to me at which point I can take a nice break and return to story I feel much more confident in my ability to tackle.