What if I told you I’ve been working on the same story for twelve years?

I’ve outlined and attempted to start this story multiple times, but it always fails. And whenever I try to explain the concept to someone, it’s too vague to describe. It lives in the back of my mind while I work on other projects, always searching for inspiration. I’ve collected images on Pinterest, made countless playlists, and drawn or designed its characters again and again. Pages of thoughts litter my inspiration notebook, going back generations of notebooks in my desk drawer.

I feel like Charles Muntz tracking the bird in the movie Up, when he tells Mr. Fredricksen, “Sometimes years go by without a sighting.”

By all rights, it sounds like a story I should give up on. If it’s so determined not to come to me, perhaps it isn’t meant to be. I’ve certainly waited long enough. Maybe the pieces just don’t fit together.

But I am willing to wait. The seeds of inspiration are so intriguing to me that I will write this story if it takes me my whole life. I’ll just write other things whenever the muse is silent.

This story was born from a handful of very specific ideas that won’t let go. But every time I try to intentionally flesh them out, I fall into the trap of over-engineering. I’m attempting to think my way out of a dreaming problem and end up spinning my wheels and exhausting myself without making appreciable progress. Every creative endeavor comes with its scraps that don’t make it to the final cut. But when you are disposing of the vast majority of what you create, it’s time to change up your strategy.

So I’ve resolved to let it take its time. I don’t try to summon it. I simply snap up the inspiration when it comes, write as long as I am able, and when I find myself grasping at straws, I close my notebook and return to my regularly scheduled writing.

It’s so frustrating to tell you about a story without being able to really tell you about it, and even more difficult and even embarrassing to try and explain why I’m still excited about it. There is nothing for you to grab onto. It’s hard enough to believe in my work when other people are cheering for me. It’s far more difficult to sustain a project this long on the life support of my own possibly ill-founded faith in the story I’m dreaming of.

So instead of making another disastrous attempt to explain the plot or describe the eight or so characters I already know pretty well, I will offer you some advice that you will hopefully never need. If you have a relationship with one of your stories that’s like this, here is what I have learned over the past twelve years.

Do let it marinate. The hard truth is that sometimes waiting is all you can do. Maybe you’re not at the point in your life when you’ll have the experience you need to understand these characters, or maybe some niche fact or idea is waiting to send you down a rabbit hole upon discovery. Let your story tell you what it needs and don’t be afraid to wait for it.

Don’t try to force it into existence. You can’t simply engineer or discipline your way out of an artistic problem. That isn’t to say that word counts and persistence don’t matter. It just means that when a story is stubbornly stuck, sometimes you need to step away and let the tangles loosen up instead of pulling them tighter with constant fussing.

Do keep writing. Write other stories, poems, articles—whatever you create, keep creating. If you save up your creative juices until that big project finally comes to you, you won’t have the discipline or experience to see it through.

Don’t let your stubborn story become an obstacle. Keep living your life and wait for the inspiration to come to you, not the other way around. The stories that are ready to go should come first. Shelve this one for now, put on your shoes, and keep walking.

Do create peripheral works if they strike you. Draw characters, listen to poignant songs, and write down whatever does come to you. Writing that floating bit of dialog or describing that one really important setting may just give you the spark you need to light your next step.

Don’t put this project on the calendar. I know, I know. Consistency is so important, and you’ve got to keep working. However, when a story reaches this level of stuckness, continuing to pick at it won’t do any good. Simply fill your schedule with other things and let your muse catch up to you when it’s done sulking.

Do describe what you already know about the story in as great of detail as you can. Sometimes it’ll lead you to a new discovery. I refer to this process as feeling for loose threads.

And one last Do: Take the time to listen to your gut when it comes to what matters and what needs to change. The roots of the story are the scenes and ideas that set your creative heart in motion, so don’t give up on those, but do be open to what little shifts in dynamic will let them work together more smoothly.

Obviously, since I haven’t finished this story yet, I can’t promise you that the above strategies will work. But I can tell you they’ve given me a degree of peace. I can keep making progress on other things while sustaining the hope that one day, I’ll have this story to show you, and you’ll know why it was worth it.
What’s making this particular story so damn stubborn is a question for another day. But for now, the hunt continues.

P.S. On a hopeful note, want to know what inspired me to write this article? That One Story paid me a visit this morning. The hunt continues!