Sometimes writing is like having an enormous lake in your head, and you want to get it out of your head and into a proper place for a lake so other people can come and go swimming and ride jet skis and stuff, except all you have to move the lake is a teaspoon. So you’re just sitting there frantically flinging water out of the lake with your teaspoon and telling people, “Guys, this lake is going to be so cool when it’s done,” but it will never be done. There is so much lake.
I didn’t really expect this to be relatable, but if you wanna reblog, go wild.
@worryinglyinnocent, I feel you might relate.
I relate immensely.
This is it exactly. I worked out once that even if I wrote my theoretical best word count every single day it would take years for me to write all my ideas. It’s neverending which is sometimes cool but mostly torturous. Quite demoralising really because I want to be done and I never will be.