I’ve come to the realization, through my pseudo-masochistic, life-long labor of love, that I am not a ‘plotter’.
In fact the more preparation I put into a longer piece of fiction, whether it’s a screenplay or book, the greater the odds I abandon the project, forthwith. Despite time spent outlining, creating a three act structure, incorporating rising conflict, theme, detailed character analysis, in spite of all of this, the more time I put in, the higher the probability I jump ship, usually by page twenty-five.
The point at which the muck & mire of my scripted creativity, the self-imposed chains of a confined journey on a one-way roadmap, prove fatal. My efforts to craft a clever storyline, one that sees a likeable hero tackle adversity, overcome tragedy, learn a valuable life lesson, and save the day – in grandiose style, is all for naught.
My inspiration wanes, frustration…
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