There's a big grey beast staring out from my office. Its mouth is open, exposing teeth made for gnashing my bones. Just MY bones.
Ladies and gentlemen, meet my desk!
Yes, my desk is the beast.
When I first start a project the desk isn't monstrous at all. It's more like... a buffet spread (because I love food!). Yes, it's a spread of all of my favorites: ham, bbq ribs, dressing, peach pie, etc. That's all to lure me in. It's all laughter and brainstorming and planning and 1st drafts and 2nd drafts. Good times.
But when that 2nd draft is complete, so is the party. The spread vanishes. The laughter gone to silence. The next day is when the REAL work begins; structuring and rewriting scenes so that the reader can stroll down the story path I've laid out for them without getting tripped up, or lost.
This is when every day feels like walking to my death! I've just realized this last week. I am utterly terrified of this stage all because I don't wanna mess it up. You know how many books I closed because the first page was boring, or confused?
I don't want that to be my book that's closed and shelved 😳
It's ok. I'll be fine. Several times I've limped away. Chunks of flesh missing, eye gouged, bruised, but smiling because I had a completed manuscript in one hand and a slaughtered beast beneath my foot.
Shaken, but I can do it. I have to because it's my passion and dream.