Currently, I hate the sight of my work in progress. It’s not its fault. It’s a nice piece of work and one that I’ll enjoy going back to at some stage. It’s just a stage in the process.
For me, the writing process goes something like this:
I have an idea. It’s a great idea. I can’t wait to write that idea – and if I have to wait because I’m finishing something else, I’ll hate that.**
I’ve just hit 20,000 words and there is no more story in me. I’m looking at a scribbled page of notes in the hope I’ll work something out. I think I’ll grab ten coffees and see what happens.
This is really, really crap. Like horrid. Take my keyboard off me and get me out of this misery.
Okay, it’s better than I thought.
This is great! I can sub it to anyone and they’ll say yes!
Oh, damn, why did I sub that? How could I ever have thought anyone would go for that piece of crap?
I’ll just fix it.
Oh, now it’s in a mess.
This makes no sense!
I’ve lost all sense!
I hate this thing and never want to see it again*
Oh, now it’s okay. Now I’ll edit it and hone it and it will be beautiful.
And only at that last part does it become, for me, a viable, completed projected.
*This is me, today. I have 30 more pages to go. Here goes. I’m going in….
** This is Abendau 4 with me currently. I want to write it. The angels are singing. I have an idea. It’s a great idea. I can’t wait to write it.