I know I’ve complained about this before, but it bears repeating: I need more time to write. I think I could finish the damn thing (yes, you know of what I speak) in a weekend, if I sat down at the computer with a stash of PBJ, Gardettos and a never-ending supply of coffee.
But who the hell has a weekend to just sit down and do nothing write? All of the chores that don’t get done during the week because I’m working at my soul-sucking corporate job need to get done sometime, and the weekend wins by default. So I continue my little one to three pages a day when I can squeeze it in, and it plods slowly, inexorably on. (Isn’t inexorably a cool word? I’m going to slip it into my everyday conversation somehow.)
On the plus side, I wrote my first love scene the other day (no nudity, just a “I fancy you. Do you fancy me? Cool!” type scene) and I think it went rather well. I don’t think Harlequin will be calling me anytime soon, but still. Good stuff, I think.
Book tally: 250 pages, 72000 words.
May 3rd, 2007 at 8:28 am
I’m getting anxious for you to finish that thing too. Well, maybe not quite as anxious as your are.
I’ll have to try to work in “inexorably” once in awhile too, if I can remember how to spell it. I suppose though when I do, I’ll have to push my glasses way down on my nose and light up a pipe.
May 3rd, 2007 at 9:46 am
I know, it probably is sounding old, but this is one way that seems to be working to keep my motivation level up. If I tell as many people as possible that I’m working on it, it’s a definite impetus to keep going so I don’t sound like a complete dork.
I think those of you that have listened to me whine about it for the longest time will most definitely rate a free copy (whether you want one or not.)