Speaking only for myself, one of the hardest things I find about writing is figuring out exactly what I want to write.
Many people do not have this problem. They get an idea, they sit down with the idea, and they turn the idea into a book, whether it takes six months or six years. They have willpower and a single-minded determination that, frankly, freaks me the hell out.
Many, many more people don’t possess that freakish quality naturally, but have trained their minds to focus on a single idea and to see that idea through to its completion. I envy these people. I aspire to be like those people.
Because I am one of those people who have at least five ideas in their head, all the time, and fall in and out of love with each idea endlessly. Asking someone like me to pick one story concept and forsake all the others is like asking a mother to choose between her children. It’s virtually impossible.
As much as I want to believe it stems from my Shiny Object Syndrome, I really think it has more to do with the fact that there are way too many things that fascinate me. I want to write the love story between a samurai and a female doctor in Meiji Era Japan just as much as I want to write about two estranged sisters living on a vineyard in Napa. I want to write fantasies and historicals and YA’s and categories…I love them all! I have ideas for them all!
But there comes a time when an idea-hopper like me has to sit down and choose one thing to write, like in October every year when I have to pick the story I’ll write during National Novel Writing Month. That time has come for me right now, as I realized the other day that I haven’t done any real writing since my NaNo attempt abruptly ended.
I think I’ve chosen the right idea. It’s been kicking around in my brain for two years. I like the story. I’ve named the characters. It’s a world that is familiar in a genre I find comfortable. Now…I just need to write it.
And cross my fingers that nothing else grabs my interest before I’m done.