Doubtful Drafts.

It's a very odd sensation, going from first-draft writing -- where quantity presides over quality -- back to third-draft writing, where the point of it is to do it right this time. And, I have to say, it's proven to be quite tricky.

I'm not going to lie -- I'm super pleased with what I had of my third-draft pre-NaNo, but realising that I have to go back to working like that to produce those words filled me with a certain kind of nervousness that I hadn't felt before. I was honestly starting to doubt that I could keep up with myself.

This nervousness, coupled wih taking two days off for the holidays, crippled me for what felt like ages (although was actually only most of a day). The words just wouldn't fall right and the physics of the story was falling to pieces in protest of it neglect (A butterknife piercing a hardwood table, that's all you need to know!) Everything felt trite and dull, and my sentences and PoV were boring as hell. It was unbearable and I was doomed.

Then I had a walk and a bath and, at ten pm, inspiration struck. It was the coveted bolt of lightening, and it struck me hard. So hard, in fact, that the momentum of that energy has carried me well through today. As it stands, I have done 2,000 today (the most of this draft that I've done since putting it down on October 31st) and it's coming as well as it did then.

I am so so inordinately relieved.

It really is delightful, going back to this kind of draft, where every word is carefully picked and placed for the perfect effect. It's really feeling like a composition than words on a page, as the first drafts did, and I can finally take pleasure in the craft of writing again.

That's what subsequent drafts are for, I think -- pleasure of writing. First drafts are for the pleasure of the story, but it's later ones that really let you stretch your wings. I love it.