I didn’t post my log yesterday because I spent the entire day trying to finish my bloody chapter, or at least the entire day that wasn’t taken up with work and distracting myself, and that also constitutes my writing log entry. Lesson learned: no matter how hungry you are, no matter how fed up you are with the library, no matter how convinced you are that you can finish just as quickly at home, you’ll dillydally and shillyshally for several hours on your return home and won’t be able to finish dinner anyway.
It was however an 8.5k word chapter so I feel marginally more justified in being a complete whiner about it and generally chucking myself around the internet like a spoilt child complaining about how terrible everything is. Only marginally more, though, especially as part of yesterday also involved discovering how to connect my netbook to the library wireless, which is the precise and polar opposite of “productive behaviour” or “actions likely to lead to productivity”. Well done, self.
Today I chafed and whinged about having to follow up an 8k day with another 5k day, and have actually fallen short of my intended mark not so much in word count but in terms of plot points covered: one plot point being enjoyable to write it got away from me somewhat and left me without the energy to really continue with the second of the day’s chapters/plot point collections. I’d say “lesson learned” but I am still largely ahead of where I ought to be (at the day earmarked to be written on the 11th).
Most gratifyingly I am finally settling into a rhythm of character and world that gives me a concrete mental image of events and actors, and no longer feel so much like I’m forcing descriptions of things viewed in the dark. Does that make any sense? I have the feeling coherent sentences are being stolen out of my brain for use in fiction at the moment.