I wouldn’t call it writer’s block. I can write. I can’t find a plot. Is this a variant of writer’s block?
Since NaNoWriMo (it didn’t work well for me), I’ve written another 50,000 – 70,000 words related to that attempt. I have never written so much with no story. While it’s true that I always spend a good chunk of time in character development before launching into some kind of action or growth, this is getting ridiculous. I’ve invented characters who are simply existing in words with no point.
However, perhaps it is reflective of my life at this point. For the first time since early childhood, I’m not pursuing an escape from a bad situation or an aggressive assault on a goal. I’m living in the sweet zone of satisfaction. My characters don’t care to wander away from this place, either.
If my fictional world follows the real world, a plot will seek out the characters eventually, just as some stream of action will suddenly appeal to me out of nowhere. The difference is I feel no concern about smooth tranquility in my life while my characters’ peace of mind feels nonproductive.
I ask again—where’s my plot? I’ll be here, patiently waiting and writing pages of pointless scenes.
