Sometimes I’m a bit slow. Sometimes I stare the obvious in its face for a long time before seeing it. Sometimes I forget how excited writing makes me.
I haven’t written about it any real depth, but 2014’s NaNoWriMo.org provided me with a very valuable lesson, one that I (think I have) finished processing enough to get some actual useful knowledge out of. What I have written about, since about week three into November, is that I utterly could not stand the way the pace makes me dread sitting down and writing.
At this point in my writing career I know a decent amount of information about how I am, as a writer. (Rule 1: Know Thyself). I know the types of stories I love to tell. I know what times of the day I write best in. I know that if I’m starting a new series that I need to be alone in the house while I’m starting, and that distraction utterly destroys me, but if the story is well along its way then commotion around me…
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