Have set up shop at the library with four others from the second writing group and after about an hour of screwing around, shooting the shit, I’m finally getting down to work. It’s Chapter Eight, the chapter I didn’t realize I needed until I did the plot work, and before the last chapter I had fleshed out and half written before the draft was lost. After that, new words, all shiny and nifty.
I had a half-post written last night of how I wasn’t writing at home. I blamed the cat, among other distractions.
But it’s getting to be a real issue. I am not writing at home at all, which is totally not what I had either expected or hoped when I finally had my own apartment. Sure, I’m cooking whatever I want, eating whenever I want or not at all and keeping the place relatively tidy. I’m making strides on my reading and I’m watching less TV.
But no writing.
Sure, I may be creatively puttering, messing around with either plotting or research, but not fingers on keyboard, words from brain grunt work that pushes the draft forward.
I was supposed to start back into the early morning writing. Rise at 6:00 am, feed cat, and write until 7:00 am and then start the morning routine. I’ve been setting the alarm, and taking my thyroid pill, and then going back to bed. (Though, in all fairness, when the 7:00 am alarm rings, I do feel better, more alert, as that 6/7 arrangement was more like what I had before the move.)
But no writing!
Yet my output at writing nights out has gotten consistently better. *grump*
I’m probably not being firm enough with myself. My discipline is lacking.
I have an hour before they kick our little group out of the library. 1,000 words coming up!