Writing has always
been a very organic process to me. Many times I'll have questions spinning in
my head—What will my MC do about
so-and-so? What does she want to study in college? How will she react to this?
What's her favorite ice cream flavor? What does she think about that?—and
for some reason, no matter how much I think about it or which way I examine it,
nothing seems to fit. Nothing's right.
I'll be struggling for days, trying to figure out if my character wants to study physics or marine biology or open a restaurant, and I'll come up with nothing. Nada. I’m talking crickets in my ears, people. I’ll push and push and get so frustrated at myself because How could I think I could actually write a book? I’m nowhere near as good as I thought I was.
And then.
I'll be struggling for days, trying to figure out if my character wants to study physics or marine biology or open a restaurant, and I'll come up with nothing. Nada. I’m talking crickets in my ears, people. I’ll push and push and get so frustrated at myself because How could I think I could actually write a book? I’m nowhere near as good as I thought I was.
And then.
