I wish I felt happier about the whole thing, though. I think it's a potentially good story plot-wise, and I like the characters and feel that they are solid enough to carry the book. But I don't love what I'm writing. I don't get caught up in the mood and the atmosphere and write in a half-daze, the way I did when I was a teenager or in my early twenties. These days I feel that instead of soaring on the wings of a diaphanous muse, I am digging out every word with a shovel. It is not, as such, particularly Fun.
And yet I don't feel any happier about not writing, so onward I slog, and hope that somewhere along the way I will rediscover some pleasure in my own craft again.