I’m sitting at my desk, reading through my manuscript one “last” time (you know, before the next “last” time) before sending it back to my critique partners before (hopefully) prepping it for query. And I’m thinking to myself, “I really like this part.” Reading through my story, making only minimal changes, sometimes in awe of a paragraph I can’t believe was actually written by me. Surely this is the part of the writing process that brings me the most joy!
Except, every part brings me the most joy, all for different reasons.
This isn’t exactly a problem, but that seemed like the most accurate heading to write.
Recently, I finished writing a rough draft of a longer story. I’ve also got a written draft of a short story that I’m currently typing up, plus critiques fro writing partners on another short story I need to edit. I have another longer piece niggling in my head, but there’s no real plot to that yet, so right now I’m just taking notes and looking through reading materials for inspiration. So, right now, there’s nothing big that I’m really writing, nothing that I feel the need to log in a page count for every day.
And it’s kind of great. Typing, editing, stewing, it feels like a nice break after pounding my head on the desk trying to come up with a plot or character development. There’s still plenty of stuff that can and will drive me insane: getting stuck on story notes, going through edits and realizing that an entire page is completely worthless. But for right now, it’s nice to know that my biggest work is to read my sentences out loud, and listen to the tip-tap-pound of my fingers on the keys as I digitize my story.