How do you know when you’re ready to start something new?
Part of me thinks, Oh, I need another hour day week to noodle. To daydream and nap and read and play with outlines and write little alternate-pov scenes and talk about writing.
The other part of me thinks, Dude, you’re being such a chicken. You are scared to write a crappy first draft. The silly thing is that it will be crappy, because it is a first draft, and then you will revise. You like revising, remember? Sussing out the weaknesses, figuring out how you’ll fix them? It’s like sunshine after the clouds shift. That is an amazing feeling. Your dramaturg brain loves it. And you have to write the first draft to get there. (You like that part too. You just don’t remember.)
I’ve been restless for weeks. Perhaps…since three weeks ago, when I sent off book1 to my critique group. Haven’t written anything  substantial since then. My brain feels itchy.
I assume I will reach a point where my fear of suck is overwhelmed by that nagging need to write.
I should probably just start already. Steve laughed a little too hard last night when I told him the non-writing me is like a caged troll.

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