There’s a point for most authors when any given piece of writing becomes something you hate more than you love. Well, I assume this afflicts the short form as much as it does the long. And maybe ‘hate’ is a strong word, but I use it to sum up the ‘what a load of cow dung that no one will ever want to read’ point.
I have hit this point with my sci fi novel.
Which is grossly unfair to it, because it was my decision to get hung up on that climactic scene, not its. It was quite happy with itself. I think. But no, I had to come in with my nagging doubts and now… well…
Of course, as also tends to happen, I will fall back in love with it. Possibly tonight even! But what’s amusing me (and frustating me) is that I’ve spent a lot of years with this book and I think this is the first time I’ve gone ‘why am I bothering’.
The writing demon isn’t looking too happy with me either because he’s put a lot of work into trying to get to the end of the edit before we both die of old age. So, for his sanity (and by extension mine) we’ll be pressing on. There are only a handful of chapters left!