When it comes to writing, sometimes I think the kittens and puppies are dead. When I first started writing, it was like dating this new, mysterious, hot guy. Butterflies, excitement, and a seemingly endless supply of inspiration were my constant companions. I was writing poetry, flash fiction, and brilliant blogs (no, really... well maybe not in retrospect), and while I know these are smallish things, I was churning them out literally 2-3 times every single day. No weekends off. And some of that stuff is still my favorite stuff, but it's nothing... tangible, if that makes sense. Nothing I can really hang my hat on and say "I'm a writer."
And then I got a great idea.
I was riding home from work, and back then I had a 40 minute drive, lots of time to think about the next blog or short story idea. And I saw these characters so clearly and what they were doing, well to me, it was revolutionary. I won't say more because in those 30 seconds or so I basically saw the apex of what is now my WIP. And that day, I kind of sort of started writing a novel.
And ever since then, that joy comes in much smaller spurts. There are fewer surprises and the muse is stingy. Of course I'm much busier than I was then-- working more than full time most semesters and never knowing what my schedule will be from one to the next (I work 3 part time gigs usually), but overall, I think it's just harder to be a grown up and stick to one thing. I still want to run after the shinies, but this is not getting my WIP done, is it?
I want it to be fun again. Do you find that working on longer projects takes some of the joy out of it? Being disciplined and on a schedule makes the muse more scarce?