I spent Wednesday on the slopes with my husband and two youngest boys. The snow conditions were only so-so but our happiness level was through the roof. Sun and skis and smiles all around.
I spent today – eight long hours – wrestling with my current w-i-p. This one has been a rough journey. I wrote this story beginning to end last year, only to realize that, despite some good stuff, I only had half a novel. I was missing an entire POV. The shape was, well, a little bit bland. The piece simply wasn’t as good as I needed it to be. I panicked, procrastinated, sought pity, ate too much and, finally, fought my way through another draft. And another.
I’m at that point where I’m really not sure if I’m “there” or in the midst of another icy, imperfect slide down the slope that is writing a novel. But at least I’m moving forward. At least I’m on this hill.
