I’ve been fussing with my latest manuscript all weekend. I’ve gotten to the point where it’s serious work to get me to open the file. Once my cursor hovers over the file, the voices start.

• This story is stupid.
• These characters don’t do anything. They need to be more interesting.
• Maybe something could blow up. Like chapter three, for instance.
• Maybe I should start over.
• Didn’t I just write something like this?

By the time I hear, Please let me work on any other story than this one, I remember.

I’ve reached that point of the writing process.

It’s the place where I’m getting close–I’m putting the pieces of the draft together, closing in on the end. I don’t know why that’s so difficult, but it happens every time.

I just have to work through it, even if I do feel like a flattened kitty.