“The scariest moment is always just before you start.” – Stephen King

I had to hand write an entire chapter the other day. Yes, an entire chapter, that’s what I said. It took me about seven hours and I have to say my hand cramped, a lot.

Tons. I am out of practice.

At one point, I had to physically straighten my finger due to it being stuck in a hook-like position. Then I had to hold my knee down, as it was shaking uncontrollably, because of the reaction to the discomfort I was feeling throughout my arm. I wrote the chapter out, because I had decided to work through the pain of my thoughts by creating pain somewhere else; or because our monitor suddenly went black and I didn’t know how to fix it so I took the pen to paper.

What would that say about me if I’d decided to inflict a small amount of pain upon myself for the greater good of the story?

I’m at a rough point in the story I’m writing. I’ve agreed with myself (nice, I know) to be in a dark place in order to give the character the attention she needs. I’m thrilled to be at this point, but I’m also becoming aware of how it affects me.

It saddens me to allow her to go.

To get on with it.

I keep telling myself that she’ll come back to me broken, but she’ll be back.

I have faith that her story does not end…