It's the little things that get you through.
Reading about the output of other writers on their blogs and listening to a writer friend of mine talk about what story he's finished writing this week (okay, he's mostly redrafting old material, but still...), I've been feeling like the slow kid in class lately. I'm the kind of person and writer that likes to feel as though he's making progress – getting the work done. And that is perhaps the hardest part of writing a novel, the grey feeling that it's going to be a long haul. So, God Bless the chapter. It may not provide the thrill of completing a brand new short story, but it's a nice pick-you-up on the journey toward that 90 or 100 or 120,000-word mark.
Yesterday, I put the finishing touches on chapter eight of The Ballerina, the Boy, and the Thing in the Water (after rewriting 2500 words; even for first draft, it was some bad shit) and felt that momentary surge of elation I'm talking about. Savour these moments. Today, I sat down and typed "Chapter Nine" at the top of a page and felt the discomfort of staring at the blank page all over again. But I kept ass in chair until I had something. Maybe not something great, but something I'm content with (until draft two, that is), something that will keep me coming back and putting down the words until I reach the next stage in my journey – chapter ten.
4 hours ago