Since then, I've been slogging along, trickling out words and working on other stories when the word flow gets so frustrating I want to rip the word machine from my head.
Then a light bulb went off in my head. I've been telling myself that this novel better be good. In fact, it needs to be better than good. So instead of letting the words come as they will, I've been fighting to make everything perfect. Nothing like a little internal pressure to send the happy place on its merry way. A few days ago, though, I let the words reign. I tossed out the idea of perfection. I dug way deep into the word machine and turned the faucet on full blast. Lo and behold, the words flowed and I found my happy place with this novel again.
I don't normally post excerpts of work in progress, but I thought I'd share this snippet. It made me smile when I wrote it. Okay, scratch that. It made me grin like a madcap fool. This is first draft stuff, okay? It's not perfect and out of context, it might leave you scratching your head, but it is what it is.
The water shut off and a few minutes later, Karen emerged from the adjoining bathroom draped in a towel, a puff of lavender scented steam drifting out behind her. A water goddess materializing from her temple of sea spray. All she needed was a gossamer gown and a golden circlet on her head.
He watched through heavy-lidded eyes as she tiptoed across the room to her dresser. The curling ends of her hair left a trail of water droplets in her wake. He caught sight of a grey spot on her shoulder. A goddess, maybe, but a diseased goddess, cursed by a wrathful god named NotReal, and NotReal was a real son of a bitch. In fact, the Great and Powerful NotReal was on a mission to make Mark’s life as fucked up as possible. And why? For sport, of course. Old NotReal didn’t have much else to do and a bored god was a dangerous god.