Since I wrote this several weeks ago, I’ve added 67 more pages to the draft. The experience of wanting to keep turning pages hasn’t diminished, so I thought I’d share this with you because it’s just as relevant today as it was when I was only 95 pages in.
A few moments ago, I was reading through freshly printed pages from the first draft. It’s been a prolific day! Since waking up around 5am with a breakthrough line in my head, I haven’t been able to find an enforceable stopping point. But I took a minute to re-read and see how it’s flowing in print. When I came to the last new page, I put it down and had the oddest sensation of wanting to keep reading. What’s odd about it is that it felt like I was in the middle of a book that was already finished – that the nature of my decision was really just about taking time to read, the way an avid reader disappears into a paperback when she should be doing something “more productive.”
Of course that’s not the issue, because those new pages don’t exist yet and I’m the one whose job it is to produce them. I want to keep reading.
That means: keep writing.