Last night, I finished the first scene of my new MG novel. I had printed out my Scrivener scene cards and put them in a binder, which is part of my fast-drafting method. All I (supposedly) have to do is flip to the next scene card, without leaving Word (which is what I use to actually write, versus plotting), and keep typing.

I had started the scene a day or two before and written about a page and a half, but it had been a bit of a slog–not unusual, I’m guessing, for the very first pages. Then last night, very possibly powered by way too many cookies, I shot through the rest of the scene. And it was awesome. I paused a few times to think about one or two things, then either skipped over a problem or wrote something and pushed on. I wrote a couple of lines that I absolutely love. I wrote a few more that I sure don’t hate. I just wrote. And, in whatever first draft version this may be, I wrapped up the scene.

And then I remember that feeling. The one where you actually get something on a real page, and you feel in your gut that you are truly starting a new project, and you had fun with the writing, and you like some of what you created, and you think…maybe.

Maybe I will finish this draft, quickly, like I want. Maybe I will see how to revise it, and I will jump in. Maybe I will have more magic as I revise, and even more as I find the right threads to pull together, more as I polish. Maybe this story will be one of the ones that I finish, that I love (with other moments, obviously) through to the end.

Maybe I have just started to create a book.

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