Texas, continued

Turns out Texas (see 9/11/12 post) has some interesting and unexpected landscape features. One of them showed up in my dreams the other night as a swampy marsh (or maybe a marshy swamp) that I was wading in up to my knees, trying to find a way out. When I woke up, I didn't understand the symbolism at first, wasn't sure whether it connected to my writing at all, but after this morning's morning pages, there was no doubt. At least not about that.

Yes, for the past several days (or weeks?), unbeknownst to me, I have been wandering around this natural wonder of the emotional landscape, which we shall call The Swamp of Doubt. While I could get back in the car and just drive around it, hoping to leave it behind, I am pretty sure that is not the way to move on. Writing has a sneaky way of bringing up issues or feelings that are best addressed right now, because if ignored, they may turn into permanent roadblocks, or at least irritating energy blocks.

No doubt my main character, Gabby, is going to experience plenty of doubts as she adjusts to life in a new place. Transitions and new experiences -- any kind of change, really -- open the doorway to doubt. How could they not? Which would explain why I keep running into doubt at every turn lately, including in my writing life.

One thing I know for sure? Doubt's got all of the questions and none of the answers. Questions like: Can I construct a plot that works? Do I have enough ideas to sustain a plot? Will those ideas come together in a coherent way? Do I already have the knowledge I need inside or do I need a teacher to show me how to do this? And those doubts, if left unchecked, spiral into a whole universe of other doubts.

The antidote?
Trust.
Belief.
Faith.

And, perhaps, a better map.