Here's the thing though - the part that I'm grateful for, and often forget, is that I LOVE to write. When I first start the process of a new book, long before I'm even ready to begin writing the synopsis, the characters, plot, locations, and meaning of the story begin to come alive in my head.
I start seeing the characters in my dreams. Later, as they flesh out and become yet more real to me, I start seeing them in my head, when I'm awake. They begin going about their business, and stuff from their past, present, and future play out like little mind movies. I'll imagine they're in the room with me, and I can hear them think, and just know them through and through.
I slowly, but surely fall desperately in love with all of them. Even the ones I dislike. As I start to understand them, and the world they live in, that world becomes ever-so-real to me. I can taste the food they eat, know their exhaustion when they're wrung out after an argument, feel their arousal. They aren't me, but they live inside me.
One big dirty secret I have is that many of the characters I write are pastiches, mish-mash creations where I blend aspects of real people I know, combined with details that come only from my imagination. They're like alternate reality versions of people I have known in my life. That's why I can hear their laugh, or know the foods they're revolted by.
It CAN be exhausting. When I do finish, it's bittersweet. It feels great to complete something so enormous.
But the whole process from start to finish is rich with emotion, sensation, and this sort of swollen, energizing, exhausting creative urge. I am so grateful I get to experience it.
