Chapter 10 took it out of me. I'm exhausted. As I wrote to my draft-reader, the Ink-Clad Diva, it is physically painful for me to put these characters in a state of fear, or anger, or grief. I've become close to the characters. They're a part of me, even though they exist in a completely different dimension--an imaginary world, for heaven's sake. But I just ripped the rose-colored glasses off of my main character, and it was like ripping a scab. I threw the Thorns of Life in her path, and she fell into them and bled, so what did I do? I picked up those thorns and rubbed them in some more.
I just feel sick about it.
But I do feel good about one thing: Part 1 of my draft, ten chapters long, is written.
Time to move on to Part 2, Chapter 11. Hope I don't go bankrupt now! :)