Thanks to Crysoula’s early morning presence in the war room (well, early for me, late for her), my wordcount at 9:30am stands at just over 1K (THANK YOU SOULA!!!). Odds that more warriors will show up this morning are slim, so it’s back to blogging wars with myself. I think I’m aiming for writing a whole chapter before I go shower, which means another 2500 words by noon, if I can manage it. Starting NOW. war #1: 358. that’s rather disappointing. *continues on without a break* war #2: 533. better.…
death march
Trying to finish the book by Wednesday. Actually by Tuesday would be nice but that’d be 2 7500 word days, probably, which is unlikely. However: it’s early, there are no warriors around, and I’m running wars with myself until they show up because I need the externally implied discipline. Going NOW. war #1: 399. must go punch down bread now. war #2: 601. must go bake bread now. war #3: 179, but it was a very short war! And in the meantime, Richelle Mead gives an idea of why it…
day off
I have taken today off. This does not, perhaps, get me any closer to finishing the book, but I’m not sure trying to work would have, either. So instead I’ve watched Disney’s Robin Hood, which is still my favorite Disney film, and to which I still have all the lines memorized. We used to have it on a record (back in the days before video tapes), and I must’ve listened to it hundreds of times. Certainly enough times that thirty-plus years later I still know all the lines, anyway. :)…
what writers do
Neil Gaiman posted on Twitter to say “I am sitting in an Indianapolis Starbucks writing a speech in a moleskine notebook. I feel like a lazy writer’s idea of what a writer does.” This amused me inordinantly. :) I think it’s what people who want to have written think writers do. And people who talk about needing to Feel Their Muse before they can write. “Sitting in a coffee shop with one’s notebook,” said my Mom, “waiting for The Muse.” “Staying out of the sunny windows and growing one’s hair…
conversations with my husband
Having just spent over an hour discussing this stupid book with Ted, I went into the kitchen to try to find something yummy and junk-foody to eat. There is, of course, nothing at all of that nature, because we’re Being Good and this is what, day 12 of no sweets. I curse and mutter and swear about not being able to find anything I want to eat. Ted, recognizing the behavior in a way I wouldn’t have: You’re stress eating! Me: Well, I’m TRYING TO!