I keep thinking something will motivate me to stop doing all these other things and finish the trilogy.
Problem is...I am mad at the characters. They are not doing what they are supposed to do. I had all three books more or less written in my head, but when I sit down to work on it...they do not do what they are supposed to do.
They remind me they have their own thoughts, wants, needs, dreams, and motivations and that, even though I want them to do one thing for the purpose of the story, it is not what makes sense to and for them.
Shut up, I say. I invented you. You are my creation, fictional characters in a fictional book.
They just roll their eyes, do what they want and I have to replot the story.
Makes me very, very frightened of parenthood.
If I cannot get fictional characters to do what they should do, how can someone like me be qualified to guide a real, living, breathing human being in taking the actions that they should?
To train them to be mentally, physically and emotionally prepared for life, to act as a courteous, caring person who uses both their mind and their body in ways that are good for others?
Which makes me again so thankful for the parents I have. They did a great job and I can honestly say the failings I sometimes exhibit are on me. They prepared me to have a great life...but sometimes I more resembled the characters in my story.
Sorry Mom. Sorry Dad. You did great. I hope you are proud of me anyway.
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