"I told my agent today, when she made the mistake of asking how the novel was going, that all was misery and gloom and that in addition I couldn't write for toffee. She pointed out cheerfully that we've had this conversation three quarters of the way through everything I've ever written in the last sixteen years, which frankly was not the kind of sympathetic response I was looking for*. Then she told that most of her other authors do it too about this point in a book. I think I preferred feeling aggrieved with the universe and unique to feeling like just another author three quarters of the way through a book."Which is just about exactly where I am. :-)"(*A properly sympathetic response might perhaps have involved sending someone over to my house carrying a large fruit basket containing a venomous and grumpy asp, so that I'd have a really good excuse to give my editors for not finishing this book viz. and to wit. being a bit too dead to keep writing.)"
A thousand words so far today. More to go.
Keep going, Mary Anne. You can do it. You are mighty. Your words flow like a great river. You are a fantastic writer, and you are writing a wonderful book.
Please consider this my verbal equivalent of a fruit basket.
🙂