I have realised the cause of my rut and — as ever — it took some well-timed pepped to pull me out.

I had forgotten what second drafting is like.

It’s not like first drafting, when everything’s a new discovery and nothing matters: You already know the story and where its going. And it does matter; you’re committing to the project by starting a new draft.


It’s not like a final draft. The words are still clumpy, and the ideas still not-quite formed. It’s all the mess of a first draft without the fun of the exploration. Not to mention that I know what I can accomplish now, and I’m frustrated when that’s not coming out.

But I had sort of forgotten that the accomplishment of Book1 took two and a half years to achieve. I have a long way to go with Book2. I’m near the base of the mountain, looking up and wondering why I’m not at the peak yet. This mountain might be an easier climb than the first — I’ve done it before, I can do it again — but it’s still going to be long, hard work.

And that’s okay.

I needed reminding of that.