Writing and My Wracked Nerves

I started writing the actual text of the novel I’ve been developing this week. It’s gone fine, but has also been oddly nerve-wracking. If I hadn’t taken a while to think through so many details up front, I think I would be lost now. As it is, the pace is fitful—sometimes smooth and onrushing, sometimes deliberate and slow. Not sure which is producing “better” results. What I think is true is that I shouldn’t worry about “better” now.

Using index cards—both physical and digital was just fantastically useful for me. Having the calendar on hand too is really helpful. But there’s a lot of thought and detail beyond just what’s on cards that I have to consider as I move forward. Sometimes the writing is unsatisfying because it doesn’t feel quite right. Sometimes I’ll revise those parts, or the feeling turns out to be wrong; ideally, at this point I just write and don’t look back. I can rewrite the whole book after I write the book. Like, I am just trying to get from one thing to the next.

When I do that, I’ve done the days work. That’s really all there is to it. But the unease and some stress comes from not feeling like the initial assignment was well enough thought out. I had to stop earlier this week and slow myself down to manage that on the second chapter. Today, one scene went swiftly and well; the next one is crawling so far. I think I simply press on and eventually I’ll get used to the pace and rhythm of this thing. I’m doing well on word count, right around where I want to be per day.

The big trick of the thing is just being able to produce without worrying about how it’s turning out until later, allowing for that faith and just doing the job of writing.