My head...feels a bit like black hole. I fear that the ideas that I have in my head will be sucked away if I don't get them safely on the page NOW...
...so some days I write frantically. I scribble the words late at night and hope that it all still makes sense in the morning.
Other days, I pause with my pencil in mid-air and stare blankly at the last sentence I wrote. Waiting. The reason for the procrastination is that I know the road a certain character is traveling, and I know that writing will bring him one page closer to his demise. For other characters, there is a particularly pivotal scene that I need to get down, and I need to turn it over in my mind different ways and examine it before I know how to best present it. Then there are awkward days...days that I have to write about emotions, with all the sticky, messy, well-worn baggage that comes with it. It can be unpleasant having to share a character's betrayal or abandonment or jealousy...it stirs up things we would prefer to leave buried. Some may call it cathartic, but it never seems to feel that way to me. For me, it is more like picking at scabs.
As I start writing today, I am at 113 pages. On this particular day, 01-13-2012, that seems appropriate. I should be about a third of the way through the first draft of the book, and yet there is still so much to do! Which leads to me to my recent realization...the story will have to encompass more than one book.
This is all just the beginning.