Just write the damn thing.

I've been hovering over the next chapter for about 3 days now, trying to find a strong entry point, trying to figure out which character's POV has the strongest voice, and just wanting it to be great.

Wanting something to be great is a the surest way to block yourself. 

I wrote a chapter that happens later in the meantime, just to make some progress.

Went on my walk last evening along the canal (I tend to alternate between day walks where I actually write and twilight walks where I just think) and asked myself, "If I were to write this chapter right now, how would it come out?"

Then proceeded to write the chapter in my head and think, 'Hmm, that's pretty good, actually."

So today I''m going to write it for real.

Rapidly approaching the end of the book. It's funny, but in the old days I couldn't wait to wrap up a storyline: nowadays I always have this final hesitation, an unwillingness to really get to the end. Not sure why. But I'm pretty sure the delay is beneficial, mostly.

Waiting for inspiration at this point is hard. The story has more or less been written in my head. The initial excitement has dissipated. The discovery isn't there, except in the execution.

For the last three days I've been waiting for inspiration. The dilemma is, the longer I wait for inspiration, the farther I am from the last time I wrote and the harder it gets. A kind of Catch-22.

So I'm pushing forward, trusting that the story and the characters are strong enough to finish this book.