Last month I was in
edit mode and very happy. This month I'm in the dreaming stages
of a new book, and very happy. Perhaps I'm just a happy-type
I recently read a book on the pursuit of happiness. The
book had been recommended by one of my friends, but I found it boring
and somewhat annoying. So much for happiness! I'm one of
those who thinks happiness is a byproduct of doing something
productive, whether that is taking a walk, baking a cake, helping a
charity or writing a book.
So, back to the the book writing
thing. This is the stage where I get to dream. I dream up
names and characters and settings. I write long biographies of
the hero and heroine. I look for pictures that stimulate my
imagination. I research things like dog agility training and the
Montreal subway. I play "what if?" and generally have a very
I know the hard work is still to
come. The days when I stare at a screen or a piece of blank paper
and wonder what ever made me think I could write a whole book!
All those words. And they have to mean something. They have
to hang together and create a whole. They have to be true, in the
context of the story. Then I have to go into the black
moment. I have to make myself unhappy. Who wants to go
But, at the end I get
to write the HEA scene and I get to be happy again. Happy because
my characters have come through the trial and emerged stronger and
wiser and happier, and happy because I've accomplished something.
Baking a cake would be
easier, and quicker. But there's nothing like the dreaming stage
at the beginning of a book and the euphoric stage at the end.
Writers are like mothers. We forget the pain of the middle part.