Well, I have my three chapters (about 33 pages on last edit) and I'm nowhere close to stopping now! It's interesting how there's such a huge discrepancy between writing and talking about writing. You'd think logically that talking about writing would inspire you to write, and churn up ideas, etc. But what I've found is talking about my story is what spurs those sparks of creativity and inspiration in me. Not talking about writing. For instance, talking about how far I've gotten feels a bit premature, when I still have so far to go. I like to update my blog and benchmark my progress, though.
Yes, this story feels like Christmas Day, birthdays, and good weather all combined to me. Like finding a secret compartment with a treasure in it, like discovering money in the pocket of old jeans. It's like the potential is more than the story itself (so far). It stretches ahead like this perfect pathway for me to follow. But the fun of it is that it has twists and turns, bends around which I haven't even seen yet. I don't even know they're there until I come upon them!
So far, ideas I've thought I had have changed, conversations I thought were set alter. It's fun and unpredictable, and yet somehow it feels like I've known all of this all along. Like I'm smarter than myself. It's hard to explain the writer/creator's sense of subconscious premonition. It's as if you don't know what will happen until you write it, but after you do, you feel as though it's something you've always known. You wonder sometimes why it took you this long to get it all down.
I believe Michelangelo spoke of his sculpture as seeing the figure in the stone and bringing it out. That's what this story (and others) feels like to me. The ideas are there - or somewhere - waiting to just be put onto paper. I'm just their vehicle, their conduit. I think most creative people feel like this. And even if you don't consider yourself creative, I bet it's happened to you too.