Writing is easy say some, just sit and stare at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead . . .
I like to give you something juicy right away. I make a point of opening my novels with a violent scene, with action, which then reveals a major change in the life of my character(s). Right away, the reader gets complexity, layers and a surprise shift of frame of reference.
By the time I finish writing, I realize that my outline had fallen out the window, the window slid shut, never mind outlines. Without my plan, who knows what my characters next move would be. Characters surprise me, they don’t follow the outline. They know what they want and how to get it, even if I don’t. The point is, write, relax, flee from friction, don’t stop. It’s your inner genius that’s writing, not you. Don’t worry about impressing agents or editors, there’s always time to rewrite. Trust me! Not once, not twice, but who’s counting.
I asked myself, why am I writing this book. Is it informative, evocative, life changing? Nope, history, I taught history, writing gives me a chance to write history. I love a fairy tale romance, like Romeo and Juliet. Is that reason enough to torture myself? Evidently, because here I am writing historic romance, my second book is evolving.
All writers are vain, selfish, and lazy, and at the very bottom of their motives there lies a mystery. Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.
–George Orwell, “Why I Write,” 1946