This is where I take 5 minutes to whinge about my perfect life that leaves little time for writing.
Husband did not go see Prometheus with his old friends last weekend, so I got time with him instead. Good, because we needed it. Drawback was, no writing time because we were making up for not seeing one another for a week. Same thing this weekend. Next his work schedule will have shifted him from being off over my weekend again, but that was basically 90% of my usual writing time for the past two weeks given to something else.
For the next 2-3 weeks I am also going to be watching a lot of films, because we are down to the end of screening season for the festival and we have to get them watched. So that means basically no attempts to write in the evenings (other than a Write Night my friend and I are instituting this week for this very reason–she also has a full and happy life and struggles to force in writing time when our city is so lovely and distracting and so are our partners) until July.
Also the next two Saturdays I am going to be working for my day job at moving our offices, so buh-bye to half my writing time again. The flip side is, unexpected overtime = means to finance publication. Yay? If I can ever effing finish….
So all of this is me being grumpy about having an existence that makes me happy with or without novel-writing, because it makes my number 1 challenge finding the time to put words down.
This morning? I found 15 minutes. I wrote 41 words.
It took me about 10 of them to get re-oriented to the story and another two to figure out what conclusion the hero was drawing from the scene. Sigh. Writing the words isn’t really the slow part…it’s thinking them up that is.