(Because I'm on a seven deadly sins roll lately. Blame Fullmetal Alchemist.)
But anyway. When you read the post title, what came to mind? Besides plagiarism, I mean.
I bet was something about stopping before you were finished.
As someone who started roughly 200 stories before my first NaNoWriMo in 2005, three of which made it past page 9, I know what it's like to not be able to finish something. Most of those weren't thought out at all; I just sat down and wrote until I ran out of words (which happened quite quickly), and I really didn't think anything of it. If I ever knew what to write next, it would still be there, because I never, ever, ever delete anything. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm an unrepentant packrat.
Since NaNo '05, when I first found out I really could finish something, and quickly (the first thing I ever finished was a fanfic, but we don't speak of it), I've been trying harder than ever to actually stick with stories until they're done. I haven't had a whole lot of success, but I've actually been trying.
Well, just before NaNo '06, the plot I'd had since January got, for lack of a better word, usurped by a new idea. It seemed interesting and fun to write, so I went with it.
When I was consistently dragging myself to the computer just to get the minimum of daily wordcount for the first week, I excused it as NaNo's sophomore curse. Stupid of me, I can see now. But I kept going.
I finished out the month with flying colors--71,004 words, with two days of more than 11k apiece. But I still couldn't finish the thing. I took a hard look at it and realized that my MC had no personality, and I set out writing it from a different, more involved character's perspective.
Forty-five thousand words later, I looked at the computer screen and thought, I can't do this anymore.
That night (April 28th) I couldn't sleep. I had too much bouncing around my head. Eventually (this was around 12:30, so technically April 29th), I pulled out a pad of sticky notes and wrote plot points out on them in the glow of my clock.
The next morning, I had the skeleton of a story I started a year ago and loved, all ready to go.
I took the next two days to really think about what I wanted to do, and on May 1st, I made the official switch. I'm 23,000 words into it and loving it still. I really think I can finish this one. In fact, I know I will. More than I've known that for anything before. Seriously.
So, there's my confession. I would feel guilt for committing the first deadly sin of writing...except that this story had gotten to the point where it was a writerly sin to keep writing it. I hated it that much.
Questions (because I am a nosy soul): Have you ever just flat-out refused to write another word on a certain story or project? How many stories did you start before you finished one? If this isn't your first deadly sin of writing, what is?
Also, thank you for the Mother's Day and birthday wishes.