Okay, folks, it's time for my obligatory glass of Whine. I'm at the start of a new book. The first fifty pages of a new novel are the WORST for me. I can't think where to start, I can't seem to get a grasp of my characters, and I can't work up enough courage or confidence in myself and my writing ability to get into a rhythm and pour words on the page.
Since this is by far not my first novel, I know the pattern. Whine and fuss and kick, write in fits and starts, compost, plot, whine some more, squeeze out a few more pages, till one day (usually a stolen Saturday) the pieces click and the words tumble out.
Today I got 500 words on paper. Felt more like I wrote a million.
Pass the cheeze. I'm whining.