There are times when the writing comes easily. I know where I'm headed, I know what to do, and I love doing it. Those are great times.
And then there's now.
At the beginning of another book. I'm three chapters in on the new project, I have a vague idea of where I want to go with it, and the last thing this girl wants to do is sit down and type it out.
I've come up with lots of excuses and way to procrastinate. Just before I finished today's work, I was actually contemplating getting out my counted cross-stitch (which I haven't worked on in MONTHS) just so I could have some busy work and not have to write. Sad, sad, sad.
I'm like this at the start of every book. There are so many choices to make, so many ways it could go. It isn't until I'm at least a fourth of the way into it that I feel I know the characters well enough and have narrowed the choices enough to write with any speed.
Then, with this one, there is the added challenge of a new genre for me. That's slowing me down a bit too.
The cure? Sit my butt in my chair and put black words on white paper. Sigh. I gotta keep moving on this one. The deadline looms.