I've just posted a chapter on 'Critique Circle' and it feels like I've just run a marathon. I'm weak and trembling (sans the Bacofoil wrap) and...spent. Water! *gasp*
That was officially the most difficult chapter I've ever written. It's taken me two fecking weeks to write under 3,000 words. My A4 pad looks like a censored letter with its black strike throughs.
I have rejigged, crossed out, sobbed, started over and bracketed the life out of this chapter. In short, I've sweated blood. Was it worth it? I'm the wrong person to ask. I still think it stinks.
Why do I do this to myself? I could spend my evenings watching TV or reading.