A different way to be neurotic about my writing

I'm well over forty thousand words into Overthrowing Heaven. I'm not at all sure how long the book will be--it'll take as many words as it needs--but I figure I'm somewhere near a third of the way along. So, it's only natural that The Dread should visit me. Right now, I should be realizing that everything I'm writing is utter crap, more boring than a nutrition label for a jar of salt.

Except I'm not.

Well, not exactly.

You see, the problem is, I'm really digging what I'm writing. I've carried the overview of the story in my head for so long that I'm very much enjoying seeing how it unfolds in detail, as I write each scene, description, bit of action, line of dialog, or whatever. I'm quite entertaining myself.

Fortunately, I have a new (at least to me) reason to worry. My new neurosis is simple: I'm the only one who will find this entertaining. I've become utterly convinced that should I one day have the temerity to show this piece of crap of a book to anyone else, that person will immediately begin screaming, "Nothing is happening! You've taken how long to get to this point? Don't these people ever do anything? Who gives a hoot about them anyway?" And so on.

I have to confess I like this New, Improved Dread better than the old one, because at least in this one I'm amusing myself. I'm still terrified, however, that I'm producing a turd.

That fear notwithstanding, I'll write more of the book tonight. It's what I do.