Short night, brain dead

[rolanni]

Some small victories achieved at the dayjob. Body count, zero -- a victory in itself. Go, me. I think that things on that front would be Slightly Less Stressful if I wasn't on the downside of a book*. I am never Good With People when I'm writing full-out, which is what I would be doing at this stage in the proceedings if I, um, didn't have a dayjob interrupting me Every. Dern. Day. I accept that my timing sucks; I should have finished the book before life got complex again, but I didn't, and my reward is getting to go daily into a snarly, stress-laden situation bearing my own Super Giant Economy Size of Snarl.

Anyhow, after writing about 800 words in the wrong direction this evening -- for practice, I guess -- I felt relaxed enough to write 600 good words, and am therefore calling it a night. This is known as the fine art of quitting while you're ahead.


*By the "downside of the book," I mean that part of the book where I, the author, have stopped pushing the story uphill step-by-step-by-we're-never-gonna-hit-the-top; the story has crested and is on a runaway-no-brakes-hang-onto-your-hat charge down the other side of the mountain. Also sometimes called "reaching critical mass" -- i.e. that point at which there is enough stuff in the story -- description, dialog, world building, ideas -- that it starts breathing, moving, and thinking on its own.

Progress on Duainfey

61,978 / 100,000 (62.0%)