Fizzling Out

I've gone from surge to fizzle.

Some writers feel they are sculpting a fine work of art from a lump of cold stone, and they work skillfully with hammer and chisel to produce their masterpiece. Me? I feel like I've got a jackhammer in my hands and shards of rock are flying everywhere. Bits and pieces of my story showering around me, dropping at my feet, and stirring up a cloud of dust that is choking the life out of my manuscript. I'm considering nixing the whole thing and moving to the next lump of cold stone.

Yeah, right. That's the problem. I can't let go. Even if I don't complete the story in time for the Surge promotion, I'll keep it, and keep hacking at it, until I sculpt something recognizable.

Peace,
Jessie