Having Trouble Finishing Writing Projects?

Writing anything, whether it be a novel, an essay, a short story or a blog post, is a journey.  Most of my writing journeys follow a predictable path. 
If I were to draw a map of this path it would look like a giant letter U.  I suspect many writers find themselves traveling a similar path.  If you are having trouble finishing your writing projects it may be because you reach the bottom of the U (a horrible, unavoidable place) and are not sure how to go on from that point.  In which case, a map is helpful.  

For me the journey begins at the upper left hand corner of the U with a spark of inspiration. 
Whenever I get an idea I’m pretty sure it is the most fabulous, unique, brilliant idea that has ever occurred to anyone since dinosaurs walked the earth.  I am click-my-heels-together happy at this stage and cannot wait to start. 

When I begin writing my story almost immediately it hits a snag.  I am sliding down the side
of the U, but don’t know it yet.  The idea that glowed so shiny and perfect and whole in my mind is having trouble traveling down my arm and slipping out my pen.  Words that should be flowing like Niagara Falls instead  drip onto the page like water leaking from a rusty faucet.  

But I persist, drip by drip, word by word until slowly I begin to realize this is not a brilliant idea. 
Then the more I write, the more I begin to suspect this may not even be a semi-good idea.  What so recently had shimmered in my mind like a finely woven silk tapestry looks on the page like something the cat coughed up.

I keep working until I can see that this story is, in fact, terrible.  Then I decide that I have been deluding myself into thinking I have what it takes to be a writer.  I tell myself that whatever success I had in the past was clearly luck and now the truth is out.  I consider destroying the story but  am too tired and depressed to hit the delete button.

This is the bottom of the U.  The dark night of the soul.  At this point I usually begin surfing the internet and fantasizing about other ways to better spend my time.  Clearly I am wasting my life as a writer.  I wonder if I am too old to become a race car driver, then remember I don’t even have a driver’s license.  To avoid writing I fantasize about getting my licence and one day becoming the first senior citizen to race Formula One.  

At this point my writing project and I usually take a break from each other.  I’ve found that it is
best if we spend a few days, or even weeks apart.  Eventually, after some time has gone by, I get my courage up and reread the story.  I might still think it is crap but inevitably I spot a tiny glimmer of something interesting in it.  

And this is how I start to climb out of the bottom of the U.   I ignore everything else in the story and concentrate only on that small speck of interesting. If I have to, I will scrap the entire draft, except for one small sentence.  Then I start rewriting.  Invariably the story heads off in a direction that I never planned.  New characters walk onto the page.  New unexpected things happen.  This can be a slightly disconcerting period, but is often exciting, too.  It is not the story I first envisioned, but I am writing, so I keep going.  Sentence by sentence I am climbing up out of the bottom of the U.  

This process keeps repeating itself with lessening intensity as I go through draft after draft.  I
just keep writing, focusing on the interesting stuff when I get stuck until eventually the entire piece shines and I cannot think of another way to make it better.

That’s when I know I have arrived at the top of the other side of the U with a finished story. 
But the story is never the shiny, perfect one that I first imagined. Still, it is a story and I made it, and I feel pretty proud of myself.

Then a bit of time passes and I get a great new idea and the whole process starts again exactly as before, from me thinking I am brilliant, to me thinking I am crap, to me ignoring all those crazy voices and just putting my head down and writing until the story is finished. 

And that’s how writing is for me. It’s a bit like being an explorer.  And like all explorers I
emerge from the journey tattered and worn, exhausted, but triumphant.  I am home again. 
Not necessarily with what I expected, but with a story to tell.