They flowed over us, those dread ides and the week that followed, a dark tide with currents strange and vast, and bore us we knew not where.
Life this week has been extremely life-like, and I’d like that to stop. Shannon’s workplace began to eat her alive, and she bore this with characteristic passivity (like, “Back the hell off or I’ll impale you with your own grandmother’s still-bleeding spinal cord!”). About the time the distemper shots kicked in and she was calming, my workplace rose up and began to eat me. I saw a doctor for a moderate ailment, and had several new experiences associated with that event, some of which (if I am feeling horrid and foul and want to hurt folk who’ve done me no harm) I may share with you all in great detail later. Last night, hot on the heels of this, we stayed in town and helped Lee & Dorothy set up for Orycon, which we will begin to attend today.
Through most of this I have kept my words flowing, but day before yesterday was only 300 words and yesterday was naught but work and sleep, and was sufficient. Words may or may not happen this afternoon; I favor “will”, but will only hold me to moderately super-human standards.
I’m getting much better about that. It’s making the writing process remain fun, which was one of my goals for this year. Good.
And. Still on track for first draft. Also good.
EDIT: Better than on track. The goal I am shooting for is between 80k and 90k words (short novel length). If I perform two 20-minute stints with Dr. Wicked each day, I will be done with the first draft two weeks ahead of time.
I’m okay with that.
Crossposted from Epinephrine & Sophistry