the beginning, in the beginning

In the beginning I never know what I am doing, which makes it rather the same as in the middle and at the end. This is my online notebook- my new version of my writing notebook called Sputtering- which I started Sept. 05. A place to record my attempts at novel writing, full of insecurites, struggles, showing off my inability at spelling, and my love of run- on- sentences, oh and of - dashes (and parenthesis). It is however very important to me that I spend more time "real" writing than I do in writing about my inability to write. I get stuck a lot though, and frustrated. And I feel sort of nuts when I get depressed and anxious because I can not figure out how something goes, how it is supposed to go, in some imaginary world. I never seem to have enough real world research information either, the rainy season in Japan troubles me. How does it effect my character's garden?
It is rather unsettleing but I have realized this past year, that finishing this story (started it in 1997) is very important to me, something I must do (I never finish things, I'd rather it didn't matter, but I know I will feel like a failure if I don't) (plus I need to complete this so new ideas and ventures can come). And ultimately it doesn't matter if it is readable to/for others. It is a story I need to hear, I need to finish, otherwise it would not have hung around asking me to write it, for so long, telling me bits and pieces whether I was focusing on it or not. It is rather like a wild animal (non-predator) only approaching when I am looking the other way, and when I turn to look directly at it, it runs away. Everything I have read says I need to set specific times, and sit down and just do it, not wait for furry woodland muses. Sit still in chair, focus on writing, then maybe it will wander back to me.
Anyway, started this July (started seriously trying to write it), and went through all my old notebooks (about 20), and typed anything that related to the story into my computer, printed it out, (printer died, old computer couldn't recognize new printer- bought new computer, too much money, but love it) organized everything according to when it happens (real world cut and paste)- wrote new stuff along the way, found out things I didn't know. By early November was working on my step outline/running plotline, and started freaking out about the rainy season in Japan, and when do I plant this or that, and how does it affect the roses- and then when would this happen, before or after- and remembered that it is crazy to be writing a story that takes place somewhere I have never been, felt overwrought and sick to my stomach. Didn't know what to do. Information. Need information. Couldn't find it on the net, well maybe if I could read Japanese. I can't. I went to a new Barnes and Noble, (not local) and there were many more books on Japan there (then at my local one), and I bought them (5 books, maybe 6, with the idea of only keeping one or two, after I looked at them closer. Well over a month later, I still have them all, and have read only- most of one). The Holiday season, and a death in the family. I wanted to be done by now, but it is all so much harder than I realized. Because I know so much of the story already, I thought it would be easier, I didn't think things would be so upsetting either, or unsettling, or that I would be scared, of me, of words, of ideas on paper. I try to make that voice shut up, the one that says " I just want to get it right. I just want to get it right" . Not now, now is for wrong and badly, right, whatever "right" is that is much later. So my new years resolution is obvious- refocus, and keep going forward, whatever the pace, till I finish this.
Echo is the story I am currently working on, it takes place in Japan, I tried for years to relocate it, or to see it somewhere else, but it insisted. The other story is Fresh Oranges, bits of it started coming in 1992, but I am not focusing on that one right now (though I do stumble across info for it now and then and end up reading up on it and working on it a little bit). This space is my trying to move forward. Of course I would love to be a published writer, I love books (so many different worlds, so much information, voices so close and intimate the way I never feel with voices actually in the room with me), but problems with craft aside, I don't feel the marketabilty of these stories, of my stories, but still, I need to write them. So I will.

oh and honeslty if someone should happen to read this post, I realize it is full of grammatical errors, but I am not going to put my energy on that, fixing it (that will take time, time away from what I really hope to accomplish) (me, a mispelled word, and a dictionary,- is a journey of an hour). It is what it is and isn't meant to be more.