My gift is my curse

I've always wanted to be a writer.

I hate when I read stories about poor little girls who need a big strong man to rescue them. Why can't the man need a woman to save him? Why can't the girl be the one who's all rich and worked herself up from nothing and can call all the shots?

So lately I've been writing... a lot.

But it seems, I get about thirty or so pages into it... and then stop.

I don't know why. I have so many ideas floating around in my head, and I want to put them all together... make a heroin that everyone could fall for... but I end up with four different stories, all with good potential... all who have the kind of characters any author could be proud of. But I don't know what to do with it.

Meanwhile, I keep getting tons of new ideas and want to start new stories... AND continue new ones. I feel like I'm being pulled around in so many different directions by my own imagination.