As the title suggests, I've begun writing. Yesterday, as a matter of fact. The weather was cool and rainy, and as I was opening my kitchen windows I decided that writing would be a lovely way to pass the time. Four hours later, I had an opening chapter.
Now, for that amount of time some might suggest that I wasn't very prolific, but this is a novel. My first novel. While I don't want to plod on with it for years, I also don't want to rush - I'd rather savor. I wrote again today, but only for about half an hour and with a page as the product of my time. But, my little friends, that is a start.
And starting is the hardest part.
