Last week’s wordcount suffered because I was prepping Heart of Flame for edits, but the manuscript went off to the editor (still feels weird to be able to say that) on Friday and this week has been much better for making pages. But it’s always hard.

Even when it’s easy and the words flow and you have bumper days, it’s hard emotionally. For me anyway. Pulling that much story out is hard; pulling and pulling and not getting anything is also hard.

Last week it was hard because I reached the halfway point of the book, and in my plot outline, it basically says “MYSTICAL STUFF HAPPENS HERE.” Not much of an outline, huh? But I know my characters and my process well enough now; I knew something would be happening by this point, and I knew it would be a result of everything that had gone before (which I had plotted, and y’know, this is the fifth book, so it’s kinda like there are four previous extremely-detailed plot outlines to feed into the current one.)

But nope, I didn’t know what it actually was. I just trusted that my world and my characters would produce something, because how can they not? And they did, because they’re my creepy-alternate-universe-not-actually-imaginary friends and they’re dependable like that. This is where I’m not writing the story, they are, I’m just trying not to get in the way.

Anyway, wordcount crawled until they got it sorted and then it sped back up again, and we’re over halfway, so life doesn’t suck. Not for me, anyway, but it does a little for them, and that is hard.

Moral of the story folks: don’t do art of the writing-kind unless you enjoy torturing yourself. Cuz it’s hard. It’s awesome, but you do have to like pain.