Here it goes again...

Last couple of days have been bad for writing. I finished plotting out my book using note cards and a bulletin board, though, which I suppose is an accomplishment in itself. But now I have to, you know, write it. Which is the hard part, obviously. Because though I at least have a general idea where to begin now, actually beginning still seems like a task well beyond me. Well, if you want to be annoyingly technical, I've already begun; I have four chapters and a fifth on the way (it sounds like I'm talking about children. Well... not a bad analogy, really).

But yes. Writing is the hard part. I feel like I need... oh, maybe five months where I can just cut myself off from reality and immerse myself in fiction. But that's not how writing works (well... not for first-time novel writers with no publishing agreement and no definite monetary prospects, anyway). Maybe someday I will be able to afford to live like a hermit for a few months and finish a book that way, but for now that's simply not possible. So I guess I just have to get used to writing on a daily basis with a myriad of things going on around me. Luckily, my room is a relatively quiet and secluded place where I can remove myself from the going-ons around me. I find opening a window helps. It lets a bit of noise in, yes, but that's not so much a distraction as an inspiration for me. I can hear the wind (and the rain if there is any), and my room quickly fills with cool, outdoors-scented air from outside. It lets me escape from my usual atmosphere of dreary interior reality.

So. Tomorrow begins the actual writing of my book. I feel... excited, but there's a sort of dread too. What am I going to do now? There's nothing else TO do except write, nothing else to concentrate on but silly make-work note taking and researching that I can do during the writing process rather than before. And let's face it: I need to write. I've wasted too much time delaying already; it's been eight years since the original idea. It's time to write it, and if I hit roadblocks, I'll deal with them then. I'm setting off now, even if I must go without a map or even a reliable compass (mine tends to spin every which way at its whim). But I'm going.

It's time. I'll do this or die trying. And since it's rather rare to die from writing a book, I'd say the odds are definitely in my favor.