Flying By

This is going to be very quick, because I am a mad writing fool, with only one or two brain cells that have not been drained dry by the work in progress…and I’m not even using those for this, since I intend to suck the juice out of what’s left before the day is ended.

I am on a roll. I’m on page 60, it’s over 18k words long, and I don’t hate it. I had a brief spasm of the ol’ I-can’t-write-a-shopping-list blues on Monday–you know, when you’re convinced your story is The Stupidest Thing Anyone Ever Thought of In the History of the World…and it’s badly written to boot–but then I got some sleep, and I wrote on Tuesday and my world righted itself. I might be working on The Stupidest Thing but I don’t think so, and even if it is, I rather love it, and that’s what matters.

Back in August, I wrote a post about having the joy come back. Here I am, six months later, and the joy is still here.

It doesn’t get any better than that. I don’t know if anyone else will want to read this when it’s done. I don’t know if an editor is going to think enough people will want to read it to make it profitable to publish it. I don’t care about any of that. Right now, I’m happy to write this, and that’s enough to keep me going.

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