... don't come easy to me... <sigh>
Plodding away writing stuff that, hopefully, will become an editable romance novel. At the moment, however, it seems an impossible dream. The words are not playing nicely. I look at the screen, a blank one, and ponder. And then I ponder some more. I tell myself, quite forcefully (I can be quite scary you know), to just write! I wander off and clean the bathroom instead.
Words, stilted and awkward, did eventually assemble themselves in a readable fashion on to the page and the story has moved on a little. Quite messy and cringeworthy but it's words and words can be edited. So I keep telling myself. It is often said that a first draft is messy, but yikes, surely not this messy?
The inner editor has a lot to answer for. There it sits, on my shoulder, being picky about the words or a phrase that I choose. Always there, poking its nose in, deflating my confidence and halting the flow. But wait... come November it's gonna get a jackboot where the sun don't shine.
In fact, why wait until November... <exits stage left cackling hysterically>