Just a quickie.
Yesterday, at long last, I commenced working on my new novel. I know, I know, I haven’t even finished my old novel (stuck at around 110,000 words), but this one needs to take priority as it is a course project I must complete in the next few months.
So after a lengthy, difficult struggle and excessive planning (I always love to plan), I sat down and began to write (type). Several hours, multiple breaks and countless procrastination sessions later, I had 1600 words.
A far cry from the 6000-8000 words Iused to pump out locked away in a room during the bitter winter of Cambridge, but I’ll take it considering how long it’s been since I last wrote fiction.
The best thing of all is that I thoroughly enjoyed the writing process. It’s only a rough first draft at the moment, but I loved the feeling of getting the words in my mind on the page, even if I can never get it exactly right.
This begs the question — if I enjoy it so much, why don’t I write more? Come on, start writing!