I’ve been on a bit of a writing tear over the last few days. Since New Year’s Day, in fact. I’ve written new scenes, edited a bunch of old ones that I was not happy with, and taken a metaphorical axe to the WIP’s timeline in pursuit of better pace. And what’s more, I’ve enjoyed it.
Yes, you read that right. I’m enjoying writing again. Really enjoying it. I hate having to stop for trivial interruptions such as food and sleep, and when I do stop, I’m actually enthusiastic to get back to it.
Maybe it’s something to do with taking a bit of time off over the holidays to watch cheesy films in my jammies whilst consuming my bodyweight in mince pies. Maybe it’s the turning of the year, the lengthening of the days; traditionally, the time around the winter solstice is regarded as one of renewal and rebirth. I’m not sure what it is, but something’s happened. My mind is clear. A weight has been lifted that I’d been carrying for so long I had forgotten what it was like not to be carrying it. I’ve even started to fall back in love with writing in general and The Dragon House in particular.
I don’t know how long this is going to last, but I’m feeling confident in my ability to make swingeing changes to the book’s structure without being terrified I’m going to eff it all up. My edits are surefooted, my revisions all flow; it’s exhilarating.
I believe in myself again.
I’ve missed that feeling so much.