I'm nearly done with my latest work in progress and I've been thinking how fun it was. I basically cranked it out in three consecutive years of NANOWRIMO. But I liked the stories so well that I dug them out of the maybe later file, fixed them up, and put them together into a novel. It was fun from beginning to end. I have a good feeling about it getting published. It will be highly ironical if this book that I just "popped out" gets published, when the one I spent years working on is still sitting on the shelf, but stranger things have happened.
Now that I think of it, they were all fun in the beginning... it's only when I start second guessing myself and rewrite the heart out of my stories that they become zombie albatrosses hanging about my neck.
I started writing, so I could read the sort of books I wanted to read, but couldn't find enough of. Then, I found that writing them was almost more fun than reading them. I got addicted to controlling the destiny of my characters and ensuring the endings that I wanted. Plus, I've always had an over active imagination and writing gave me full vent for that, building new worlds, making up my own imaginary friends... well, you know.
So I've finally remembered that writing is fun, and even if this book is never seen on bookshop shelves, I'm glad I wrote it.