Sometimes I find a story that I just can't stop writing. When I sit down in front of my laptop (I still have no word processor on my desktop) and write another page of this story I find myself immersed in it so deeply that I end up writing four or five pages and then regret having to pull myself away to live the rest of my life.
I can't say for certain that it is a good sign as far as the story itself goes. Yet it is nice not to have to dread staring at a blank page or try to pick up the feel of the story I started a week ago, rereading it to determine where I left off, being discouraged because it's either A) poorly written or B) written so well that any further writing would just seem amateurish in comparison.
What makes it work this time? The story. More often I've had O.K. ideas (mostly world building; being an integral part of fantasy fiction) and great intentions but the stories were lacking. The characters seemed either too boring or too complex, the plots were rehashes of Tolkienesque journey stories, the hooks and climaxes were Brooks in disguise.
Yet, there is that story, that story that seems to write itself. It's what I have right now, a story that writes itself, characters whose honesty and realism it so vivid it's as if I'm sitting down to lunch with them and they are telling me the whole thing.
The story started off as a short story. I just wanted to finish the dang thing. But as I wrote it began unfolding before me. Ideas they come in bounds. There is far too much to this story not to write a novel. Besides, fantasy short fiction is a hard sell. Fantasy readers want novels, big, fat 900 page novels that are followed by ten more 900 page novels. Geerrk. Feeling a little sick. (I'm a firm believer that Robert Jordan wrote himself to death and you can't convince me otherwise.)
Well, wish me luck. I'm off to write a few more pages. Oh, I got to go buy smokes. Alright, after that... writing time.