Every Monday for the academic year I’ve been getting together with a friend to write from 9:00-4:00. Yesterday her daughter was off from school and decided to join us. She’s working on a fantasy novel and has written well over a hundred pages, and at lunch we talked about the project and what she likes about it (how some parts are super bloody and other parts are super funny) and then she asked me if I wanted to read a page. Of course I did. I read this great scene about a Pegasus trying on ball gowns and she totally captured the awkwardness of this moment (those hooves going into capped sleeves, never mind the wings) and it was clear she was pretty pleased with herself, as she should have been.
What struck me about this was how much fun she was having–the writing, the sharing, the whole deal. I’ve been in a slump with the writing lately after a long stretch of loving it, and seeing her excited reminded me: this is supposed to be fun. Work too, but those things have never been mutually exclusive in my book. I need to get back to that somehow, to getting a kick out of getting to make up stories.
More on that soon as I try to convince you in a later post that having a year off is not the greatest thing ever.