I am having one of those days when I am thoroughly convinced that what I am writing is the worst novel ever. The characters are completely failing to be who they’re supposed to be and nothing they do seems the least bit interesting. The words taste like cardboard. Formulating the next sentence is like chewing ground glass. I’d rather do anything else (gee, doesn’t the cat box need cleaning?).
Yes, I am smack in the middle of a first draft. How’d you guess?