This is the part that sucks.

Mulish writing. The kind where I slog over a paragraph all afternoon, trying to get it just right, and then finally have to give up the ghost as the outside light moves into the evening...because it's not even an important part of the story, that paragraph. So I trot forward, then find myself slowly creeping back to it, because even though it's not all that important, it should still be good, and this...this is not good.

This is the kind of writing that's exhausting. And not entirely productive. And as I finally give myself a break and permission to check Pinterest, I suddenly remember that this was what the writing of HOLIDAY CHICK felt like. Some of it was fun...but I forgot how much of it was like inner-flogging. I know the important part is that I show up to do it every day, and do it, and even if it's mulish writing it's still writing, but goddamn... This is probably why a lot of writers drink.