Rollercoaster Ride

I love my current WIP, or at least I did until a little while ago. Now I hate it.

My heroine is a prissy little snob who changes into quite a nice person by the end of book and I love her. Or at least I did until about 10 minutes ago. Now I think she's a spineless ninny who lets her father walk all over her.

I love the prose I write. It's marvelous, stunning, amazing. It will win awards. People will wait in lines at midnight to purchase my latest novel.

Actually, my writing stinks. Can't write a word worth reading. Why do I bother?

Seriously, I go through these exact feelings and thoughts pretty much every day.

Every.

Day.

If I could not write, I would, I'm telling you. This is not a career (or even a hobby, for that matter) for the faint of heart.

I'm at the "I hate my writing, my WIP is ridiculous and I'm an idiot" stage at this moment. But give me ten minutes and that'll all change.