writing

I'm finding that it evokes desires in me. My characters are real enough to me now (or enough of me is in them) that I yearn for what they yearn.

It's odd, my sense of impatience is increased as I write. I want to be in the experience, have it appear on the page as though I was reading it, or living it, not writing it. I am always afraid that the slow pace of my writing may leach some of the ideas whirling through my head before I get them down. Though often the slower pace allows me to get a lovely expression or idea.

It's an odd process.

It's why I get so frustrated with A____ when he never finishes anything - he doesn't really understand writing unless he's actually writing.

The whole process is weird.