Some days I hate my writing. Today is one of those days and the reason I almost failed to update City of Glass, my current serialized science fiction novel, this morning. I hate the whole story. I want to throw it in a river to go and rot.
Every writer I have ever met has experienced this at one time or another. It's a side effect really of our pursuit of perfection. We need that pursuit. It's what brings you fully-developed wonderful literature instead of half-baked half-written stories that leave you wondering what we were doing when were supposed to be writing. It's important. Without that pursuit, we would be unable to create the works that inspire us and make us want to keep putting pen to paper day after day.
But there's thing called a commitment. I made a promise to not just put pen to paper, so to speak, but also to put paper to bed and send it out into the great wide world twice a week for readers to enjoy—or not. I really can't control that part. Commitment is important too, necessary to us artistic types who want every word we produce to be perfect. Without that commitment, we would never be able to stop writing, editing, revising, etc. and hand over our work to the reader. It would never get to you.
And then, there's resolve. It's that murky bridge in between the two. My resolve is what allows me to do what I need to do, even when I don't want to. I still hate City of Glass as it stands. I still hate the chapter I finally kicked out the door this morning. I still wish I had never, ever made that stubborn commitment to produce a novel that wasn't finished first so I could belabor it into perfection.
But I am resolved to fulfill my commitment. The new installment is up. I have done my duty and must wash my hands of perfection.