Still plowing my way through Ch. 7. It seems I’ll never get to the next one. It’s not like I’m striving for perfection at this point (it’s only my second draft, after all), but I still need to like what I write before I put it behind me and move on. This is what happens: at one point, I’m not happy about how Kate says something; at another point, I hate the description of the kitchen because it stands on its own instead of being an integral part of the event taking place in it; then I feel that the dialogue sounds forced; then the verbs aren’t strong enough, etc. Thus I end up calling the whole scene crap and take a tea break, after which I start all over from the beginning.
Margaret Atwood said, “If I waited for perfection [in my first draft], I’d never write a word.” (The Writer, Nov. 2012)
Yes, I remember that, but I still do what I do. If this is not my stupid stubbornness, I don’t know what it is. But I swear, I’ll finish this chapter tomorrow evening, even if it kills me!