I'm sure that's no surprise to you, because you've been watching me wobble over here since the holidays with nothing (or practically nothing) to report. I don't know if I was burned out by the holidays, or just overcome with a wave of the Lazies, but I'm thinking it's time to get back on track.
So last night I sat down and wrote. Not a lot -- it's hard to get back into the flow -- but a good 600 words or so, a new opening for one of the stories on my WIP list. I realized about a week ago that the opening I had in place implied that we were going to come back to some of the problems presented there, and... it's not in the charts. Dude is going away and not going back, so we either need less of his Befores, or else we need a more final situation. So I'm re-writing it. Which is slightly frustrating, because it delays the part of the story I actually want to write, but also makes the plot of it easier, so it's one of those delayed gratification moments. I think. I hope.
The plan is to try to write at least three or four nights a week. That's about as much as I can plan for, because we're usually not even home on Friday and Saturday, and then I'm reserving Thursday for watching my TV shows. (The Hubs very generously agreed to save our jointly-watched shows so we can watch them all at once.) So Sunday through Wednesday? Writing. Or the editing/proofing gig, if I have a deadline looming. But mostly, hopefully, writing.
I think (and experience will back me up) that if I can stick to it, those nights will become more productive. I'll work my way back up over 1000 words a night. I'll stop stuttering over minor issues. I'll remember how to just tag research questions for future clarification instead of losing half an hour to looking stuff up. And maybe -- just maybe -- I'll actually finish some projects.
My intention, with this resolution, is to start posting little snippets here each morning after I've written. We'll see how well I can keep that up, but if nothing else, consider it a thanks and a return for your patience with my burnout these last couple of months.
So here you go, a little bit from last night's efforts:
Even when he'd had his secret unmasked, even standing before his father beaten and ashamed, he hadn't felt this vulnerable. There had been anger, then, as well as guilt, to sustain him. The sun there had warmed his skin as he stood in the pillory, had dried the dew that had formed during the night, even as his anger had dried the bitter tears he'd shed.