2 week novel writing residency

This is a studio visit from the past few weeks while my partner was away. I created a sort of self-imposed residency for myself where I completed important milestones on the first draft of a novel I’m working on.

I feel kind of conflicted about what parts of the novel writing process to share, and what parts to keep totally private. Sometimes this desire for privacy comes from a paranoid sort of place, but other times it is practical, as in I don’t know how this invisible energy works nor do I know how to explain it.

The more work I do, the more work I realize I have to do. In this sense, it feels like the horizon line is always drifting further and further away. Often, I wonder how there are so many novels in the world, like how did everyone do it???? Though, I only stress about how to do it, when I’m experiencing the weight of time, or when I’m hyper aware of the sluggish slowness of my earthly body. When I’m writing with a breeze coming in through the window, existing in that timeless place, none of that seems to matter, it all just falls away.