I am at the start of a new project and my heart is lodged in my throat. I am arguing back and forth with myself: Am I able for this? Is it wise to take this on? How am I going to write it anyway - from whose POV? In what voice? Do I even want to write this book? Is it going to collapse on me?
None of these questions are answerable but they are with me constantly. I know they are just 'the voices', the ones that try to convince me that I am fooling myself but they are hard to quieten, even after all this time, experience, several books published etc.
I'm daunted, terrified and not even one bit hopeful. Yet. Well, I am
hoping that I get there, that I suddenly know what it is I want to do with this story
and that I can do it.
I am going start with an attempt to be more organised this time by keeping really accurate research notes, all in one place, instead of in five different notebooks and on hundreds of discardable A5 pages. That way, at the editing stage (see, hope despite myself!) I will have good notes to consult.
'Writing,' says Camille Paglia, 'is a strange process of anxiety crowned by pleasure.' Fingers, toes and everything crossed as I open page one of a new notebook and begin.