Today I woke up determined to write. I had it all mapped out. So after seeing my son to the bus I finished my coffee, took a shower and sat in front of my computer fully prepared to spend the next several hours working. I opened up the Book Six file and skimmed over what I had already written... and that was enough to drain the life right out of me. I hated it. This is nothing new, however. I often dislike what I write. But this time the level of importance has exceeded my tolerance for my own shortcomings.
For two years The Godling Chronicles has been a crucial and often all encompassing aspect of my life. From humble beginnings the series has elevated me to levels of achievement reserved only for my fantasies. In my dizziest daydreams I never thought that so many people would read and enjoy what started out as a simple father and son bonding project. But it has become far more (though it did bring us very close and for that I am eternally grateful).
With the release of new audio books and the continued success kindles, I am finding that as the series is about to end, I desperately want the final installment to be far and away the best of the lot. This has become an obsession that is driving me to the brink of a nervous breakdown. The fact is, regardless of what I do, I can only write within the confines of my own talent. I cannot magically become Tolkien...and it's killing me.
Though I have the entire story mapped out, I am struggling to write more than a few hundred words per day. I know that I can finish the book in about eight to twelve weeks, but my self doubt and anxiety twists my stomach in knots and causes me to wonder if I can finish it at all.
I tell you this because I want my people to know that in spite of my personal weaknesses, the one thing that drives me to overcome is my fans. They want to read how it all ends and I owe it to them to move forward. I will bear down and hopefully end The Godling Chronicles in a way that I can be proud of.