At the library again. It's gonna take me a while to get yesterday's blog post finished (since I took about twenty photos and will need to figure out which ones to use, and try and get my phone to upload them--always a dicey proposition).
Last night was another one of those moments where it was time to go to sleep, and I realized I hadn't done any writing, sit-ups, or push-ups. Because I'd gone on a hike, and gotten lost (and sunburned, something I hadn't noticed until I got home), and drove back, and taken my nephew out to eat, and sat through half of ROGUE ONE (both the sound and the picture were bad, a hell of a combination), and tried to catch up on my work for the next day.* Then, I wanted to go to sleep, but forced myself to do some sit-ups and push-ups--not a lot, I was tired--and figured, "Well, I'll count whatever writing I got done at the cabin and call it a night."
But I hadn't done ANY writing there, somehow. I had edited, recorded my Patreon address, blogged a bit, and taken an un-earned nap, but I hadn't written a single word . . . on the first day of a new month.
So, I made myself write a few paragraphs, which, thankfully, was easy because I'm so enjoying this story. I got to sleep a little after three, which, because I'd taken a nap that afternoon, didn't make the next morning absolutely unbearable. Like my podcast.
The good news is, I had a bunch of things I wanted to write all day (and yesterday too), and even though I've forgotten a couple cute lines of dialogue I wanted Lara and Devon to have, I sat down and wrote first thing when I sat down here, before surfing any internet or blogging.
Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In July: 200
There's a girl directly across from me who started to struggle with her studying, and finally gave in and fell asleep, her head drooped uncomfortably in front of her laptop. Now I look over and she's just laid her head down right there on the laptop, like the world's least ergonomic pillow. I feel affection for her, just because she's a human being (and while I am tempted to take a picture to post on here, I am aware that that's a foolhardy temptation that would only been seen as creepy by anybody else).
The thing is, I could leave now, having actually gotten 670 words written, and continue my day guilt-free. But I think I'll try for a thousand.
The antagonist of this story, Devon Archibald, is absolutely a self-insert character. I've had geeky, well-meaning boys turn up in Lara & the Witch stories before, but this guy is totally me. Because Lara Demming is the POV character, I am free to have her judge him/me as harshly as I want to, and I may actually lean into Devon being a cowardly, lazy, disreputable person by the end, which is such an interesting possibility. If somebody else--you, for instance--told me I was a disgusting, parasitic loser, I'd probably try to murder you (or at least take you off my Contacts list), but when I do it, well, that's a bit more clinical, isn't it?
Push-ups In July: 251
In my hike yesterday, I found a large, egg-shaped rock on the ground, and took a picture of it, thinking I MIGHT be able to use it (might, mind you) as the cover art for my story "Hatchling," which I have the goal of putting out this year (better go quick, the year's over half over!). Trouble is, it doesn't look like an egg in the photo.
My right leg really hurt today, and I have to chalk that up to my hike yesterday. Either I have to stop hiking altogether (if I'm going to be sore for days afterward), or I'm gonna have to do it more often.
Words Today: 1406
Words In July: 1792
*Ultimately, it was all for naught. I'd never had this happen before, but I put all my outgoing packaging in the mailbox first thing in the morning when I took off, sure to catch the mailman . . . and when I got home, the mailman had come and gone, but he hadn't taken any of my packages. The bastard had just stuffed the incoming letters on top of all the outgoing mail, and left it all there. But don't worry, he lowered the flag just like he was supposed to.
If ghosts are real, my dad is gonna haunt the *crap* out of this guy.
No comments:
Post a Comment