overthinking mess

 I over think myself to death. I believe most of the gray hair I have is a product of my over thinking. I think about thinking. I think about what other people are thinking. I think about what I'll be thinking about tomorrow. Sometimes I realize I've been thinking all day and accomplishing very little.

I like to think (ha!) that my thinking is actually preparing me for something. Like thinking about my next book. I think about that a lot. I think about my characters and what they look like, their names, their signs, what they had for breakfast. I don't write about it -- that would be too reasonable. No, I think about it. And I think about writing about it. But I don't do it. After I have thought about this for ... weeks (who am I kidding -- months) then I write. And while I'm writing I'm also thinking. I'm thinking about characters and if they are believable. I'm thinking about what will happen with this character and then I'm thinking about whether or not I've made this character a part of me or if I've fabricated this person's life and if it matters and maybe I should or shouldn't and by the time I get done I've squeaked out (barely) three pages.

There is a break (from this thinking) that occurs, but I didn't think to write down the time frame so I have no idea how long it lasts. But it doesn't go on forever.

Sooner or later something breaks free inside of me and I start to write not thinking about anything but what the character/s will do next. This is freedom. This is seriously the hand of God reaching down into my piled up mess of yarn and somehow, without having to cut through the tangles, freeing me. There is a moment -- several really -- where all the things I thought about come together and make me believe in my crazy overthinking mess process.

Maybe I can use this blog to unravel myself. Or document when God does it despite me.

We'll see.