Stuck

Oh man, it's bad right now. I am on Chapter 8, but it just won't flow. It's not right. I might need to trash what I've done so far, or at the very least just cut and move it to someplace later in the story. I opened with a fight scene between Kaila and Zoe and while it's not bad, in itself, it's maybe not working right at this particular point in the story.

I have been sitting here trying to add something to Chapter 8 to bring it back to life but it's seriously been HARD. I feel like I'm losing Zachary, himself, somehow. Not sure why. I know I've been stressed out lately, and I haven't felt good, physically, but I really do need to straighten out again and get back in there. It is going so well, and has such potential RIGHT THERE, in front of me. So why the blocky feeling right now?! It's incredibly frustrating and more than a little depressing.

I need to sit down, with music playing, and read everything I have written so far from chapter 1 on and then just start a fresh chapter 8. That way I can do it with momentum behind what I write, and his voice will be strong in my head again.

I doubt I can pass blame for the writer's block, but part of me wonders if some of the stuff I've been looking at lately is affecting me somehow. I loved the book, but did "The Host" subconsciously intimidate me? Am I really worried that my book might seem too similar to "The Pretender" now that I've watched four episodes? (The one doctor character is very similar to Dr. Bergen, and the Center is similar to the Complex...but really, is that so much to paralyze my creativity? I hope not! Because I know my story is quite different than that show's plot.) I just fear being thought of as a hack or someone who steals ideas. This story's been a part of me for so damn long (a third of my life so far!) that it hurts to imagine anyone thinking it was anything other than MINE.

Either way, I have got to get back to work. And shake these silly paranoid fears and feelings of inadequency once and for all. It's stupid and a waste of time and energy. I've got to write it, and write it as soon as possible. Who knows how much time I've really got? My mortality is strangely and unnervingly on my mind lately.