Ugh.
It's usually over something small too; some tiny little detail that seems inconsequential to anyone else, but you know you can't move on with the scene until you find the exact right adjective to describe the pinecone at your protagonist's feet, you can't put your finger on the exact shade of blue in the eyes of the love interest, or you suddenly blank on the difference between 'affect' and 'effect' and worry you've chosen the wrong one and begin to rethink your entire life's choices...
Le sigh.
That's where I'm at right now.
I hadn't actively written on my main WIP in ages. A disconnect had developed where I couldn't work past a few key plots points in my head. I knew where I wanted it to go, but getting it there seemed impossible. There were too many obstacles between Point A and Point Q. And I hate the deus ex machina mechanism with the fire of a thousand suns, so unless I could logic my way through these plot holes, I wasn't moving forward. Because stubborn purist.
So in the interim I began working on other projects, focusing on entirely different genres to clear the creative pipes, so to speak. I finally reopened this story a week or so ago, and since then it's been smooth sailing. I was back in the groove. I was tapped in again. I knew how to get my girl through this phase and to the next stage of the story. I had it locked down and away I went. And then the inevitable happened. I can't figure out the exact way I want to describe the smell of the forest, the sounds of silence surrounding my MC, and the panic rising in her chest as she works her way through the crisis she finds herself facing. In short, I'm stuck again.
Because words.
Cue the open weeping...
