"So I have this story idea..."

JS seems very writer-heavy. Everyone wave hello to tim if you haven't already. Next, give a bounce over to Peat. I'm sure I'm missing others. Feel free to cluebat me.

So I have this story idea. Idea, start to finish. The problem is the build. I know where it's going, and I know where it's been. I just don't know how to get it moving.

Before I continue, let me get one thing clear: this one story isn't anywhere near the aspirations of either of the maestros above. This was a serial story, written to jolly up a friend who was down. It's hack writing aimed for the gut and missing, hitting someplace a few inches lower.

And another thing: I lack dedication. I lack focus. I can't work and rework a story like those who have earned it can. That means I haven't earned it, and possibly never will. Fate is a capricious dealer, but beyond reproof.

Back to the story. It's stuck. I started it last March, a year and a half ago. I tried pushing out a chapter a day, then one every two, then ... Last May, I started this crazy northward migration. That stopped it pretty much cold, what with moving and learning a new job and finding a new home and learning a new infrastructure and all.

I managed to eke out a chapter or two more sometime last fall. Then, nada. So it remains, frozen in time. Of course, the person I was writing it for is a little bothered, and rightfully so. I've shared it with a few others, all close friends. They've never stopped believing in me, or in this story, even though they don't know where it's going.

I used to write for exorcism. I used to have story ideas so vivid and viscous that the only way I could break free was to pen them down, breath them life. Let them spring fully-formed from my skull, thus abating my headache. (How's that for delusions of grandeur?)

I'm tired now. Subsistence sleep is what I call it, when I can pronounce "subsistence" properly. Nothing compels me now. I don't feel the need to write. I still feel the power of the story, both ones I've written and the few that carom still inside noggin. That part is there.

The need to write is missing. How do I find that need again? I want to be addicted again.