I love the process of writing. Everything seems chaos. There are too many ideas, and they are unruly. And as you try to sort them out, even more new ideas appear.
Then gradually, the flood of new ideas slows to a trickle. You have what you have, and slowly impose a rough shape on it.
And then, when the shape has emerged, comes the honing, the shining, the polishing.
I am writing an essay, which I have been returning to for over a month. The first few pages have gradually emerging form, but for the rest, “chaos lies over the surface of the deep.”
It’s frustrating when time to work on an emerging piece is limited, but having got there in the past gives you the assurance that you will get there this time too!