I am caught in the middle of the novel I am trying to write - and trying to fight my way out. I am not sure why I started it. Writing is, damn it all, supposed to be the thing I do by choice. Sometimes I hate it. I hate it when the characters refuse to do as I want or the plot insists on going in a direction I do not want it to take. Who is writing this thing - the characters, the plot or me?
I actually left it strictly alone to sulk by itself on Sunday. I went and did other things. I ignored it. All writers should have a day off now and then. It is good for their characters to know that they are not always available.
Yesterday I crept in cautiously and they pounced again. I need to rethink. They are very determined.
A friend of mine has just expressed surprise that I do not listen to radio. I grew up without it - and without television too. I watch very little of the latter as well. Why bother when you have a head full of characters telling you what to do? Does this make writers insane - or fortunate?