I've been really struggling to finish the first draft of my YA novel. I have 3 chapters left and a pretty good idea of what happens in each chapter, but every time I sit down to write, my mind freezes up.
Yesterday, I wrote this sentence:
For Mom, no crisis can compete with the urgency of hot rolls in the oven.
At first, this struck me as just plain wonderful. Then I spent the rest of the day wondering if it makes sense.
I was reminded of a quote by Annie Dillard:
"Many fine people were out there living, people whose consciences permitted them to sleep at night despite their not having written a decent sentence that day, or ever."
Sometimes, I wish I belonged to the that throng of people immune to the afflictions of writing. I could really use the extra sleep.