You Have My Permission

If you've been over to The Writing Spectacle lately, you may have seen that I have had writer's block.  Which is probably part of the reason why you haven't seen me here lately.  But that's beside the point.  I haven't been writing.  Which sucks.

Yesterday, I gave myself a good slapping around (mentally, of course).  Sort of a 'you are going to get up off your ass and write or so help me I will slap the holy crap out of you so you'd better think of something and I mean now' thing.  And I thought of something.  Then I smooshed out my cigarette, looked at Hubs and told him I was going to work. 

I saw down here and looked at where I'd left off on Early Grave.  And I still didn't know how to proceed.  Oh, I knew where I wanted to go.  And I had that idea of something I'd just bullied myself into coming up with.  But how to get from where I was to where I wanted to be?  No clue.  Which meant I was staring down the barrel of another day of not writing.

And I did not want to face myself after another one of those.

So I started writing.  I slapped down a bunch of filler crap to get me from point A to point B.  It's probably horrible.  I'll probably most likely kill it off in edits.  But it's there.  And it did its job.  It got me past the stall point and on to the next point.  I dashed that off, too.  It's sparse, but it's there.  I can fill it in later.

This morning, thinking about what happened the night before, I realized I had given myself permission to write crap.  If you know me, I'm a big proponent of giving yourself permission to write crap, so I'm not sure how I'd rescinded that permission somewhere along the way.  But I had.  For some reason or other, I was stalled because I talked myself into believing that the words going down on the page had to be 'not crappy'.  Derp.

Crap can be fixed.  Always.  Blank pages?  Can't do a damn thing with those.  Ever.

Last night was a total crap fest.  Yay!  And it was 1500 words more than I wrote the entire week before.  I'm embracing the crap, especially if it means I can turn out the pages and have something to edit later.  So what if the scene I wrote would be totally unbelievable from a law enforcement officer standpoint?  I can fix that.  So what if the characters are acting out of character?  I can fix that, too.  

Embrace the crap.

You have my permission.  ;o)