Last night I found I couldn’t sleep. It was 3 a.m., which dragged into 3:45 a.m. before I finally decided to get up and try my hand at writing some more on the novel. I cranked out around 500 words in about 15 minutes (it helps when you have an outline and know which direction the story is taking). In a half hour, I had written 1,000 words exactly from the previous days words of 26,357 only today I wrote 27,357 words. I feel any push forward is a good thing. Looking at the white screen of the computer even with my outline and general idea of where I want the novel to go next is daunting. I worry that I won’t have enough information or scenes to fill a 90,000 word book. After all my first true attempt at a romance novel only had 41,000 words to it. I lament the process of writing and worry about things that haven’t even taken place as of yet, such as not having enough scenes to fill a 90,000 word book.
I worry about the what ifs–things I still have control over. Looking at the white screen of the page is like looking at a glaring white snow bank. You know there is something worthwhile in there. The question is how to get it out.