Really Crappy Decisions,

Surprisingly, this is not about the myriad of really crappy decisions I make on a weekly basis because I hate making decisions sometimes. I have a couple of very crappy deicisions to make at the moment about the future of "the" book. Thee is in ""s because, as I think I have either stated or eluded to before, I work on a few at once. The one I am talking about was supposed to be around 31000 words by the end of Camp NaNo and to say that that did not happen is an understatement. 

This is another of these things that I've been trying to write for what feels like something close to forever. It is something that I love, have tried out before and then either gotten annoyed with a character or took a stab out, the middle came out gooey and I figured it needed another few minutes (well, months) to stew and take shape. The first iteration of this thing was started in tiny notebooks bought from a giftshop because it was the only thing available and I was bored with time to spare. The characters are sweet, the storyline feels beautiful and half of it is set in Manchester reliving some of my favourite parts of childhood. And writing it hurts. 

People that don't really write (and some people who do write, but are built differently) don't understand how much it hurts if you feel every emoition of the characters. I would hate to think of them as flat,, emotionless pawns which are used to narrate and navigate a story, but the problem is that I draw on experiences I've been through to fuel the characters feelings and going back over some of that can hurt like hell. I've already been struggling with my mental health for the last couple of weeks, and last week was just heinous and I know that I just, if I put myself through too much of it at the moment, I will suffer and those around me will, too, and I've leaned on them a lot these last few weeks. 

Here in lies the problem though. Even when I am as close to okay as I ever get, this novel hurts. I'm not sure I can count on only one hand the amount of times that this novel, in it's several forms, has had me in tears already. Granted I wasn't always sober, but that's not the point. It seems ridicuolous to try and write it whilst knowing that parts of it will hurt, and they have the potential to make me struggle and I find it hard to knowingly do that to myself. That being said, it is really hard not to write. No matter how uncomfortable, one day I will have to come to a decision as to whether to just do it, or just drop it and it feels pretty crappy. 

On that note, I should probably go to sleep, but I think the writing bug might have paid a visit. God, he's an inconvenient git! Catch you later.