Let it never be said that writing is anything other than work. It can sometimes be easy, oftentimes difficult, but it is always work.
As you may have gathered from my earlier post about needing a taskmaster, writing took a little extra out of me this week. I could blame my day job – I was testing out financial modeling – or the presence of a giant spider – it took over the balcony and is currently waiting to devour me – but I think I’m simply at the stage in my little novel experiment where I have to make hard decisions.
And that takes work.
I’m still stitching together several POVs, editing, and doing narrative reconstruction, and I love all of those things. It feels rewarding to be able to look back and say that I improved the piece. It feels rewarding to reread a scene and not immediately want to toss my laptop out the window and into the giant spider’s maw. But moments are still mentally and emotionally taxing. Some scenes have to go. Other scenes have to be rewritten. I have to step outside of myself and try and read the writing as though I haven’t lived in it, dreamed of it, cursed at it for the past several months. If I were a more realistic person, I would elongate my timeline for this project and let the manuscript rest, But I intended for this experiment to be a writing speed run, and I’m not going to deviate from my course now.
Despite my minor whining, I don’t hate my manuscript in its current incarnation. Sometimes I think it isn’t bad at all. (And knowing me, “not hating” and “isn’t bad” are probably the closest things to compliments that I’ll ever give the darn thing.)
Regardless, I hope your writing is in a slightly more pleasant place than mine! And if it isn’t, know that I am commiserating with you in spirit.