I have been making an effort to not be on the computer lately. It feels important that I'm not.
I think it's to do with the fact that I'm so easily distracted, the fact I can spend hours on the internet, coveting things I can't afford and reading The Huffington Post.
I should be writing. But I'm not.
It doesn't make much sense because I'm at the part of WIP where I think about it constantly and plot points fall into place while I'm sleeping and the line between me and my protagonist blurs enough that sometimes I'm jarred by my own reality. It's the best part of writing any book, at least for me. The part where you know you actually HAVE a book, an intact story, a complete character, and all there is left to do is write it down.
I'm immersed in it, but I'm doing very little writing. When I do write, it's small pieces at a time and each section feels hard and precise, like I'm cutting a gemstone out of rock. With something tiny, like a nail file. The fun part is that I feel like I know what it will look like when I'm finally done. The process with every book is different, it depends on the book. And this one has been very much like facet-cutting.
I love this book. But it's hard.
And, of course, it might suck.
(Please let it not suck.)
So I have been not here, if you've been wondering. I have been mostly outside. Outside of myself, outside of this house. Both.
I've been walking. And thinking.
Thinking. And walking.
And very carefully chiselling out small handfuls of words at the end of each long day.