In which I describe the last three days.
And plan the fourth.
The writing meeting that night was small, only the three of us, but for me productive. Once all my victuals had been consumed, I slipped on the head phones and got down to business, cranking out over 1,400 words and finishing off the chapter. My writing buddies didn’t fair so well, but had a good time. Great practice for NaNoWriMo, too.
I’ve noticed a pattern emerging for my really good writing sessions. In the beginning, it’s tough of course. It takes a while the chase out the “no” voices and to just trust the flow. I feel it, and can sometimes see it afterwards when I’m reading back what I’ve written, when I switch from trying to write to just writing. I’m stop being self-conscious about it. And then the roll keeps on rolling, until I hit around 1,000 words or so. By then I’m getting all bouncy but at the same time a voice comes back, whispering, “You’ve done enough now. End it here for tonight.”
When it happened on Thursday, I was so close to the end of the chapter. I started to get fidgety and nearly did stop, but pushed through to finish. Happy I did, too, because finishing the chapter felt better than the little high I get from the flow. Part of that bad habit of procrastination, of imagining the work being done during some perfect later session. Definitely a habit to break. And I think I’m making progress!
A terrible day at work, one that started out well and then after an afternoon of computer troubles and frustrations I came home fired up and in need of comfort. Half a bottle of white wine and some killer chorizo and pancetta risotto later, I was rather pleased with the universe. That was, until, about 2:30 in the morning when I became violently ill. There was no writing done that night.
But before the day got really bad, I’d meant to work on phase-outlining Chapter 30. Left my notes at home, though, so I ended up starting to brainstorm the NaNoWriMo project. Poor modern werewolf story — shelved again! Instead of it, I’m playing with some gothic-medieval-werewolf-romance-thing. It’s all very, very rough right now. I have the barest hint of a character, I have the big pieces of the setting, and not much else. But it’s tugging at my brain louder than the others so it wins based on tenacity alone.
Spent far too long at work debating whether or not to go home. No writing. A few pages read here and there. Dragged myself home, dragged myself through the motions of cooking a pork tenderloin and, so far, so good, I’ve kept it down. Still not feeling fantastic, but I expect sleep will help with that.
Tomorrow is the Canadian Thanksgiving Sunday, which I have off from work. I won’t be making all of dinner, but I am whipping up a peach and blackberry pie to go along with the turkey trimmings served Chez Parents. Besides pie, though, I will be settling in to do a little writing-related office work. There are stories to print out for critiques, NaNoWriMo flyers to print out for bulletin boards around downtown, photocopies of some of my favorite writers to do some studying from, a phase-outline for Chapter 30 and more planning work for the NaNo project.
Here’s hoping I can keep this pork stir fry down.