Word count: 58456 | Since last entry: 1409 | This month: 1409 …is paved with my good intentions to write for the past week. But I
got back in the saddle tonight, with firm intentions (there’s that word again) to write at least a little every day this month. Part of the reason I didn’t write at all in the last week was a surprise business trip to Texas. I did have a computer with me, and I spent a couple hours doing a detailed and revised outline for the current chapter and the next one in the same plot thread, but wrote no new prose. This is some of that “staring out windows” that makes the actual writing go more easily (not that you could tell, since I was sweating rocks this evening, but I’m sure I sweated fewer rocks than I would have without the detailed outline). But between critiques for Potlatch and conversation with my seat-mate I got no writing done on either flight. And then came Potlatch, which was swell but not exactly condusive to writing. I also ate like a pig on both trips, and I’m feeling guilty about that too. All die. Oh the embarrassment. Must do better in next life!