I promised myself that I would be good and write an update today, even though at the moment all I want to do is make myself a blueberry-grape-honey tea (don’t ask, long story, involves jam) and get down to writing for the day. I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to this long weekend and putting the pedal to metal. I can feel it coming, really. I should remember to buy supplies before I get started or I’ll forget to eat all weekend. I’m not sure that I’m kidding either.
It’s been a good couple of days, and I’m happy with the progress I’ve been making on The Nine. The numbers are my version of decent, which means most people would pat themselves on the back. I just refrain from berating myself. I’m bad, but it’s by demanding more, better from ourselves that we get ahead, or so people keep telling me. I may take that a touch too seriously sometimes. *Shrugs*
Sunday I had a pretty good day, 5,083 words and a storyline milestone achieved that I won’t explain because that would spoil the surprise. Yesterday was surprisingly good to for having had a long day at work, 3,039. This brings me to a total of 48,564 words. I’m expecting a good night tonight too, but the numbers on that will have to wait for next time.
I’m having a bit of fun with the parts I’m at now, being able to show some things the story didn’t give me an opportunity to before, which is also bringing a bit of a challenge. How do I show that these things have been going on in some way all along without just saying it? I think I’m up for that though, that it’ll even help me grow further as a writer. Isn’t that what challenges are for, to be catalysts for growth?
I’m still fighting with myself on Bound. I want to work on it. I want to go work in the things I need to put into it so badly it’s nearly comical. I’m not going to. I keep reminding myself that I swore I wouldn’t interrupt writing one book for working on another. It’s mostly working, but not as well as I’d like. It really doesn’t help when I have to go back and double-check names and events in that manuscript. Really doesn’t help at all. But I’ll manage, and I guess that means I’ll be ready to go on that when I write The End on The Nine. But man, it’s a battle of wills, and I’m not even sure I have an opponent other than myself! How do I decide a winner in that case? Does it even matter, since there’s clearly no real loser either?
And finally, the picture of the day. I think this might have been from my mother’s garden years ago, but no one quote me on that, because I’m not remotely sure. I tend to just shoot pictures, say “Oh, pretty” then forget the circumstances. Oops. Maybe I should work on that.