So I was driving home yesterday and noticed all the birds that are out this time of year. This made me smile (a lot!) because I like birds. Or rather...I like looking at birds.

(As pets, they are poopy, and crap everywhere, and smell. And require a lot of maintenance. But I like to watch them. And did I mention they crap a lot? Yeah.)

And this made me think this was a great writing analogy. My husband often says that I have too much fun writing.

Fun!?! WTF? FUN?? Half the time I'm banging my head against the keyboard, trying to find the right word, because "He was so close to her, like a really close sort of thing" just doesn't have that ring to it. And don't even get me started on edits. Or synopses.

So I don't automatically think 'fun' when I think writing. Driven? yes. Feeling the need to create? yes. Fun? not so much.

My favorite part of the book is the daydreaming. The endless possibilities of the story spinning out in your mind. I have to write to move the story along, which just spins along more plot ideas. So that's what I like best. I don't like hammering away at the keyboard. I like writing 2 pages, then going to bed and being unable to turn the story off in my mind.

You know, kind of like birds. Cute to look at from afar, but when you own one, it craps all over the place. Stories in the head = cute to look at from afar. Sitting at the keyboard = crap all over the place.

And I like the finished product! But writing it? I'm not so sure.

(I told you this was a bad analogy. I should stop blogging these. People are going to start thinking I'm crazy.)