But this was supposed to be perfect…

When I finished my dissertation I thought ‘Great! Nothing to do now but write write write’. It was the perfect opportunity. So I wrote. And I realised I just wasn’t all that interested in my story – my characters felt boring and although I loved the action and what I’d planned out for the rest – I spent days stuck and generally blah about it.
So I moved on.
To a story with characters I LOVE – but with no plot. I desperately wanted to write this one, but I could come up with no ideas for it (made even harder by the fact its set in 1840). And I know you’re not supposed to force the plot.
So I moved on. Again.
And now I’m 7000 words through a fresh idea that I don’t have entirely planned out. This one I’m going to write without drowning in ideas and plots. It’ll be simple – I always overcomplicated things – and fun. Although I love action and adventure and mystery and romance, so it probably won’t be that simple…
Writing was always the thing that was solid. I had difficult essays and research projects for uni, but I would always go back to my story. I had literally been writing one for like five years. But it seems as though the indecisiveness that caused my dissertation supervisor to despair (I’ll write about victorian fashion, no – victorian travel, or maybe fashion? In the end I wrote about victorian entertatinment) has blurred into my stories. Which is never good.
But I really hope I stick with this one. I like it at the moment…

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