I’m finally getting into my writing rhythm of four hours a day that I promised myself I would aspire to this year. I break it up into 30 minute bite-sized bits by setting a timer to go off every half hour so I can stand up, stretch my arthriticals, ablute, eat, do chores, (take pics of Coco the community cat) that sort of thing.
The universe I created for ‘Bel, and the Knight Whiskey Runners’ morphed into a story gobbling creature that’s absorbed several other story concepts. I’m not complaining. In fact it’s rather astounding how they all slipped into the established framework. I now have a timeline that extends into hundreds, if not thousands of years. Go big or go home, I say … *gulp*
My plan is to have at least the first installments of each of these series published by Fall, hence my full-on-flat-out schedule.
This is a good thing. What’s not so good is that I’m so immersed in my wordy worlds, re-entry to this mortal coil is … let’s just call it, an interesting exercise.
When the timer goes off, it’s usually just at the moment I’m typing faster than the speed of light in the throes of decadent inspiration … Snarl – the lip curling kind.
I stomp off and do whatever it is that I planned to do and then sigh dramatically as I wait for the kettle to boil for a cup of tea.
That’s not the really interesting part though. I know most writers experience variations on this theme, but what happens when it’s time to sit back down at the keyboard again is what causes me to, eventually, laugh at myself.
My procrastinating self really resents having its procrastinations interrupted by this horrible work ethic it’s certain I’ve picked up from some den of scum and villainy, and I get snarly.
I believe this is the definition of a no-win situation!
Now, for some eerily appropriate Coco pics …