The other times I've mentioned the writing bug biting again, I haven't done anything with that impulse. I've let myself get busy with other things until the urge to write passed.
This time I'm writing.
Yesterday I wrote 1,000 words. Today writing was even easier and I wrote nearly 2,500 words. Now, I'm not working on the WWII story that's become the bane of my existence. I started something different. A contemporary.
Probably nothing will come of it. I'm not writing with marketing in mind. No one may ever see it. It's different from what I usually write. I just had to prove to myself that I can still write. The WWII had me so bogged down that the thought of writing has become horrifying.
But this story is fun. I know exactly where the plot is going--it's based on a dream I had. So although I'm getting off to a slow start because I'm rusty, I think my pace will pick up and I'll finish this one fairly quickly. Then I'll see if it's worth polishing. And then I'll see if I feel like getting back to the WWII.
After that first thousand words, I was so proud of myself for writing at all that I immediately wanted someone to read it. Is it any good? Does it make sense? I talked myself out of emailing it to my critique partner. It's a first draft, for crying out loud.
But I'm writing again. Hallelujah.