I can’t believe it. I have read and edited more than 54,000 words in just a few days. Once I got past the daunting task of introducing my characters and developing them just enough so that readers can relate, the plot just kind of spilled out of me. I understand why writers lock themselves away in seclusion to finish their work… if I weren’t filling sippy cups, fetching snacks, and doing laundry, and, and… I just might be done by now. Each time I look at the clock, another 45 minutes has gone by and it only feels like a few. Whatever has infected me with creativity, please don’t go away.
I have developed a nifty trick for injecting first person humor that before was misplaced, or was drowning the plot. Funny really…. it seems so blatantly obvious to me now. I feel like I should be thanking someone for my newfound passion, but I don’t know who deserves the honor? All I know is I’m more than halfway done and my story and characters are becoming a real part of me. When I’m not telling the story, I miss it. When I’m not thinking about how to develop the characters further or fill a plot hole, I feel guilty. I haven’t felt like this in a very, very long time. I’m nearing the climax now and have lots of moving parts to tie together…wish me luck.