these pages make handy paper airplanes

Here are the stages of consciousness when writing a book:

I love it

I love it

I love it

I HATE IT

I love it

I love it

I am brilliant

WHO IS GOING TO WANT TO READ THIS CRAPOLA, ANYWAY

I might win a Pulitzer

IT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE - PLUS, IT'S BORING

There you have it. A tidy summation of the process. I believe that I am in the "I HATE IT" category right now. (Not to be confused with the “why don’t I throw it against the wall and see if it bounces,” or, “these pages

make handy paper airplanes,” or the "how can I squeeze in another 10,000 words?" stages).

There comes a point when you’re just spitting out the words without a sense of whether they are good or not. I think that means you should stop and take a break, or watch some bad reality show or another, or have a snack.

And maybe, just MAYBE, when you look at your manuscript again with fresh eyes you can graduate to the “I am brilliant” stage, soon to be followed by more self-loathing and doubt, until you put it away in a drawer because you can’t stand to look at it anymore and you're not sure why you're writing anything to begin with. And then you have a snack. (It's no wonder I've been putting on all this weight with this snacking- it's the curse of the dreaded pandemic 20).

And begin the whole process over again with a brand new, rotten idea. Because it’s the most fabulous, most horrendous idea for a book you've ever had.