I am scared of my WIP

I am scared of my WIP.

I have been frightened of it for a while. It sits, hunched and unreasonable, menacingly within my laptop. It knows I only love half of it and its sorrow has turned into something sinister, something to be feared.

My WIP has been an epic journey. I conceived the idea in August 2013 and started writing it – to great initial effect – in August 2015. I wrote and wrote pulling and weaving, plucking and knitting, until there before me was about 60% of what I needed. Then I became pregnant with my second child and my first child stopped napping. I was no longer able to write regularly. The next piecemeal 30% of the first draft took a year of huge effort. The momentum was gone.

There’s a disjointedness, a scraping together feeling about my WIP now. Above it, like a shadow, is the inflated bubble of what it almost was. Yet a shrunken sadness is what it currently is.

I can fix it. Rationally, I know I can. Emotionally, I am gripped by a sinking feeling and then fear.

It’s like furnishing a room. It doesn’t look the way I want it to yet and I may not quite know what I do want it to be. However, if I keep shifting the stuff of it (words, scenes, sofas) eventually I’ll get it right or have more of an idea what I’m aiming for.

I know what I must do. I need to treat every scene like a short story and perfect it before moving on. I know what I must do, but I am too frightened to start this process.

I am scared of my WIP.

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