Out of practice

Two days ago I opened the document containing my work-in-progress novel for the first time in over a month. I was terrified to do it. It's like an old flame you've never quite gotten over and you're going to be seeing again after a long time apart. I missed my novel desperately, but what if after all this time I don't like it anymore? More important, what if it doesn't like me? What if no words come?

I won't lie. My first day, I barely wrote anything new. I re-read the most recently written chapter to catch myself up again, looked over my outline, made some changes and then wrote a whopping half a page!

And it was hard! Getting those ten or eleven sentences out was like pulling teeth. The words were slow to come and felt clumsy. My story seemed unfamiliar.

It took me a half hour to write that half page and so I had to stop and get to work. But in spite of how difficult it had been, I was proud of my few sentences. They were the first of the new year and proof that I can fit writing my novel into my life.

The next day I wasn't so nervous opening the file. Oh maybe there were a couple of butterflies flitting about inside me, but I felt much more prepared to tackle the challenge of my story. The characters felt more familiar to me. The words flowed a little more easily. Of course I didn't do too much more than half a page again, but it felt better.

I couldn't write today because of work (that'll be true every Thursday) but I can't wait for tomorrow morning when I can keep going. My story is back in my mind and I can't wait to get it out on paper.