When working on a scene, I feel one of two ways. Either dread–as in this is not right and sounds awkward or dull or dragged out–or happy sick. My stomach lurches because the characters are going through hell and the rest of me dances because the dialogue and description are just right. I could jump up and down in my seat or punch the air I’m so happy.
But it’s awful too.
Of course, a moment later the doubt crashes in–maybe the writing is terrible and I’m delusional. Maybe the dialogue is stupid and the pacing sluggish and I’m ignorant to think otherwise. But really, when my stomach begins that thrilling and nauseating twist, I’ve got to be on to something.