I'm often asked: "How long does it take you to write a book?"
I glibly answer: "Six months," and that's the truth--most of the time.
I am notoriously s-l-o-w with the first 40,000 words. That's how long it takes me to get into the story and to where the work starts to be fun instead of drudgery.
I've had a LOT (upsetting) non-writing stuff going on this summer, so even after I hit my 40,000 words, the work was still drudgery. No matter what I did, I could not seem to get this puppy to run on four wheels on a straight road.
HOLD EVERYTHING! Yesterday I sat down for most of the day and read the thing.
I wasn't as far off the main road as I feared, but I did have to dump a subplot that just wasn't working. I worried that Katie wasn't doing enough sleuthing, but it turned out I'd forgotten half the stuff she was up to (mostly because I've written the book out of sequence). Luckily, it does make sense and I'm hoping it falls together (that is, I'll be writing a LOT) in the next couple of weeks.
I've fallen in love with my characters and setting once again. Katie has new friends, and new thorns in her side, and I think the book is going to be pretty good. Of course, I just read The Walled Flower earlier this week (it's my favorite so far in the series, but by the time I finish this one, it may snatch that honor--that's what usually happens), so I'm well steeped in Victoria Square lore.
Now, if I could just straighten out the crap that going on in the rest of my life ... because I have LOTS of other stories I want to tell and no time right now to write them.
Is there anything that looked bleak in your life that suddenly found some sunshine?