On Banishing Beasties

I am afraid that my novel has crept away from me. I have not managed to work on it for the past few weeks because of classes and various other projects and hurtles, throwing myself ever closer to the end of the year. Short stories, in legion, have flooded my head and found their way onto paper in scraps and frazzled sentences, but all the while, I worry over the novel.

All of my characters are on hold, all the plot lines, drawn with so much momentum two months ago, shuddering under the strain of waiting for my return. Nice metaphor, no? I thought so. But in all seriousness, I am worried about the "spirit" of the work slipping out of my fingers, that I might lose inspiration to write or my love of the characters.

I am currently reading Chapter After Chapter on the recommendation of one of my professors, and the author discusses this directly. Her ideas are inspiring, but at the same time, I hear that quiet little voice hissing, "What are you doing?! Fantasy writers all fall into the same cliches, they always create stupid senseless stories, which no one will ever remember or enjoy! I like to talk over every other character trying to find his way onto a page! I like to use exclamation points!" This small but irrationally irritating cretin is an amalgamation of varying people in my own life and my own worries and doubts.

So with that recognition, I decree: Begone foul beastie of cruel intentions and subtly malicious words! Begone!

So say we all.
Bri