I’ve been having some trouble lately with my writing. It’s starter anxiety, really… it’s made it really difficult to achieve butt-in-the-chair work done with my second novel, Light Of The Outsider.
Tonight, I got in close to two thousand words, and the characters started yammering away at each other… and the story started to go. So much so, I had to take a look at where that chapter was supposed to go, and I’ll have to go in and nudge them back in that direction.
I’m feeling less anxious now. No matter how often this happens, I never learn; it never actually sticks:
Writing makes writing easier.
Um, woot!, and stuff.