So. I've something like 15 ways to start my bloody novel. All of which work. Not one of which is truly compelling. I can't decide whether I should go for it with one (any one!) of the 15 or wait for inspiration to strike with something Truly Compelling. Oy. I don't think I've ever realized before just how much time I spend waiting for inspiration to strike.

In addition, I spend a lot of time thinking to myself just how unlikely it is I'll be able to do justice to this novel. Standing at the bottom of the mountain, staring up at all the heights I have to scale, it seems impossible. And yet. And *yet*, I'm the one deciding the altitude of that mountain. I could just write something simple, something easy---I'm good enough that it wouldn't be utter crap. (and so humble too, i know) But instead I insist on multi-cultural faerylands and combination Viking/Russian cultures and much lush, evocative, detailed forest. So perhaps, on some level, I know that despite how much it intimidates me, the difficult stuff is what keeps things fresh and interesting.

Huh. I really *am* an overachiever. Who'd have guessed?

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