Sunday into Monday

I'm tired. I may have hit 5000 words today. Technically, the chapter I rewrote contained passages that didn't need editing, but you move things around and tweak words and redo business and save the dialogue but rework the setting or save the setting and rework the dialogue and before you know it...I may have hit 5000 words today. Which would be a record. Wish it hadn't taken me, like, 12 hours to do it. Still have tomorrow off, but damn, the days are going so fast.

I still have 210 pages to rework. I have a week in which to do this. I may be sacrificing another vacation day on the altar of this book. And my last threads of sanity, but that's what the duct tape's for.

Could get a few inches of snow tomorrow. In honor of that, I went out for an hour this morning and bought a new snow shovel, one that can push the snow. Also bought deicer. And wine. And chocolate. And Pinwheels, those chocolate-covered marshmallow cookies that don't taste as good now as they did when I was in high school, but oh well. And I filled up the truck with gas just in case. Just in case of what, I have no clue. Alien invasion.

I don't want to think about where my head would be right now if I hadn't gotten that extra weekend. I tell myself that this is some kind of divine intervention--Scribulus, the writer's god, knew I needed another week, and Arranged Matters. If I'd needed two, he'd have gotten me two. But I must only need one.

Why does it take so damned long to rework a paragraph?

I had a massage yesterday. I think it's already worn off.

I never thought this book would take off in the direction it has. It's the right feel--it goes with the cover. But even a month ago, I didn't see it coming.

Aren't I supposed to be able to figure this stuff out by now?

Sunday into Monday

I'm tired. I may have hit 5000 words today. Technically, the chapter I rewrote contained passages that didn't need editing, but you move things around and tweak words and redo business and save the dialogue but rework the setting or save the setting and rework the dialogue and before you know it...I may have hit 5000 words today. Which would be a record. Wish it hadn't taken me, like, 12 hours to do it. Still have tomorrow off, but damn, the days are going so fast.

I still have 210 pages to rework. I have a week in which to do this. I may be sacrificing another vacation day on the altar of this book. And my last threads of sanity, but that's what the duct tape's for.

Could get a few inches of snow tomorrow. In honor of that, I went out for an hour this morning and bought a new snow shovel, one that can push the snow. Also bought deicer. And wine. And chocolate. And Pinwheels, those chocolate-covered marshmallow cookies that don't taste as good now as they did when I was in high school, but oh well. And I filled up the truck with gas just in case. Just in case of what, I have no clue. Alien invasion.

I don't want to think about where my head would be right now if I hadn't gotten that extra weekend. I tell myself that this is some kind of divine intervention--Scribulus, the writer's god, knew I needed another week, and Arranged Matters. If I'd needed two, he'd have gotten me two. But I must only need one.

Why does it take so damned long to rework a paragraph?

I had a massage yesterday. I think it's already worn off.

I never thought this book would take off in the direction it has. It's the right feel--it goes with the cover. But even a month ago, I didn't see it coming.

Aren't I supposed to be able to figure this stuff out by now?