I just did it, today.
I had some thinking time and I realized that with my newfound job, I’ll have to write in Hero during my free time, not just anytime I very well feel like it.
So I wrote today, a whopping 9.5 pages, which is a great improvement over the third of a page blurbs I was writing before.
Since my sister is now writing her own book, we’ve been having these fantastic writing parties, which is one of the bestest things ever because then we can search up things on the thesaurus and talk about those weird author-only phenomenons that occur to us while writing.
One thing that’s been happening in my recent writing is that I sit down and look at those words and I’m like: WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE.
I got past that feeling, obviously, because I actually wrote about ‘those people’ and I personally don’t think it was too removed, so I must have remembered who they were. After the first feeling faded, another one rose up in its place, and this feeling melted my heart like butter.
Love. Love. LOVE. I love my book. I love my characters. I love my story. That’s a very refreshing thought after all the book-deprecating thoughts I’ve had recently. “My plot is garbage”, “my characters aren’t characterized”, “my writing is terrible”.
Well, my writing might still be terrible. My plot might still be garbage. My character’s personalities might still be questionable.
But I love it. Because it’s mine and I made it. And that’s what keeps me writing- I love what I’m doing.