writing in the dark

Sometimes I don't even know if I like writing. It's just this thing I do to torture myself. Other times it flows and I am euphoric. More often than not it's the former.

Right now, almost 40,000 words into the new novel, I'm a teensy bit terrified. Because no one has read it yet other than me and because 40,000 words is a lot of words that could potentially all be crap. I could have spent them all on a heroine that no one will like or a plot that won't be believed. The first book, which didn't sell let's remember but which did get some nice things said about my writing and gain me an agent, could have been a fluke and it's entirely possible that I can't write after all.

But, just in case, I'm going to finish the darn thing and force some poor soul(s) to read it. Just in case. 

Today in my writing room (yes, that's blogger on the screen)

Editing with Kitty in the sunroom