Yes, yes, I know the joke. None of us actually know what we're doing. But with everything that I haven't been able to make happen for myself and all that hasn't been working, I'm starting to feel like if there's a way to know less than nothing about all of this, that's where I am.
I'd say something about what started me feeling like this or how I got here, but really, this me in the same place I've been for the entire past year, ever since I finished STARWIND. Everything I try to work on still falls apart. Every single time I try to develop something from an idea into an actual story, I still can't figure out how it's supposed to go, or I lose interest in it after a few pages' worth of development, or something else happens. The thing I'm working on now, I sit down and work on it for maybe ten to fifteen minutes, enough to hash out a page or two of character stuff, before it all seems pointless. In the past year, the only plot I've managed to finish and get into workable condition is the sequel to STARWIND, which doesn't matter because odds are good I'll never have reason to write it.
It's gotten to the point that I'm not even writing things down anymore. For all the times I've talked about how I write down all my ideas, in case I can use them someday, I haven't bothered with that recently. Because it feels like it doesn't matter. Because it feels like no matter what I do, everything's going to turn out the same. It'll either be a few lines in my idea file that never develops beyond that, or something that crashes and burns or just goes *pfft* at some point when I attempt actual development. So really, what's the point.
And to make this all worse (because of course it can get worse) I don't know how to do things any differently. I've tried to write stories without knowing how they go from the start, and that only leads to me writing shit. I don't want to do short fiction because I don't like it and I already wasted years trying to make it work for me, to no avail. So here I am with the one damn thing I want out of life and I don't know how to make it work.
As per fucking usual. I'd think I'd be used to this by now. Not that being used to it would change anything, or make it any easier.
To make things yet still worse, this is all on me. Nobody is keeping me from figuring my stories out. Nobody is making me lose interest in something that once fascinated me. Simply put, I am the problem, and I am the reason it's not working out.
And I don't know how to fix me.