Writing is turning out to be hard, but not for the reasons I expected.
A finished passage is loved by everyone I share it with, but I myself fail to feel anything at all when I re-read it.
There's supposed to be mystery, and suspense, and uncertainty, and existential dread from not knowing what to be afraid of. But I, having planned the whole thing down to the tiny details, can't experience any of it. My alpha-readers love it, though.
The thing is that I want every scene to cause a specific set of feelings in the reader, but I don't have a way of knowing when the goal is reached. What's worse is that people are notoriously bad at talking about their experiences, so they might feel the thing I planned and not have words for it, and so I'll never know.