And the point is...

So, as I alluded to in the post regarding writer's block, the only writing that is currently making real progress is a piece that I didn't really set out to write.  Well, at least not in the form it seems to be taking.

I began writing a piece directed at a contest where the theme was "body language".  I had this funny pair of lines in the writing journal that seemed like the perfect starting point, and began crafting a piece about two women on a video-chat date.  It allowed me to weave in different types of body language that would help tell the story and describe the women at the same time.

A minor problem soon appeared.  The contest had a strict limit of 1200 words - and there was no way this piece was going to wrap in that space.  So I put it aside to work on other things. 

Or so I thought.

Every time I tried to work on a different project, the video date story reared its head.  A thought would enter my mind, and I'd write a few more paragraphs.  Then came my trip to California.

I had a week-long trip to San Jose scheduled for some job training.  I'm not much of a traveler.  Not a huge fan of flying (as odd as that may be, given that I work in the aviation industry!), and mostly would just prefer to be at home.  So I make sure to have plenty of distractions when I fly in (usually fruitless) attempts to make the time pass a bit more quickly.

I brought a couple of books, and some of my writing work.  Including the video date story.

I started out the flight to California with a movie, but eventually pulled out my writing.  And the story just came pouring out.  With very minimal effort, I'd filled close to fifteen pages.  Throughout the trip and the return flight it continued.  And now I have this sprawling piece, and I have no earthly idea what the correct direction is.

It's too long for a short story.  Seems like a pretty limited concept for a novel, or even a novella.  The story is currently taking the shape of a real-time view of this date, which I think is approaching hour four or five.

Don't ask me what the point of this post is.  I don't have a clue on that direction either.

Blocked?

He sat under his favorite tree by the river, enjoying the cool late summer breeze as it passed over the water. This was HIS place - his getaway for a bit of solitude and a few minutes away from everyday distractions. Yet he sat with pencil in hand, unable to break the block. The blank page seemed to mock his inability to fill it...

A number of years ago, I was the "he" in the brief scene above. Writer's block had morphed into full-blown writer's constipation. Every project I was working on sat unfinished. The time I set aside for writing would come and go with nothing but blank pages, or maybe a few scribbled out sentence fragments. So I ventured to my favorite riverside spot, figuring it would inspire fresh work. It did not.

I arrived home dejected, and suddenly was hit with a bright idea. I would break the block by crafting a story ABOUT writer's block! Genius, right?

Umm, clearly that didn't work either, since I didn't get any farther than what you see above.

I was rummaging through some old scrap work and journal entries looking for prompts or ideas for a contest piece, and discovered the little snippet from years ago. I smiled, feeling good that I'm not suffering through the same struggle now.

Then I reflected a moment. The novel I set out to write many years ago still sits in a dusty binder, no closer to finished than it was eight years ago when I set it aside. The novel project that "replaced" it? Stormed along at a breakneck pace - then stalled. It hasn't been touched in close to a year. Frankly, the only long piece I've made progress on began its life as a 1000-1200 word short story for a contest.  It quickly outgrew that, but I have no idea where it's going to end up - the story just keeps pouring out.

Meanwhile, things that I want to work on, like other contest pieces, are a battle.

Maybe I smiled too soon.