So far, so good with the attempting to write in the pockets and cracks of my life thing. I have written about 3700 words this weekend, which is not amazing for it being a weekend but still quite acceptable, considering I also cleaned the house, went to brunch and a movie with hubs this morning, read a book, read part of another book, and lost three or more hours of my afternoon to a research question that the internet, it turns out, does not have an answer for.
I am definitely still in the honeymoon phase with this book–the opening third, which is always, always, always the easiest for me to write. I am still about 10K away from hitting the mushy middle, assuming I have properly projected this story to about 75K. I have shockingly few scenes pre-written, given how long this story has been in my mind, and I am shockingly okay with that. I have a rough outline. I know what every single major event in the story is–all the things that happen, plotwise, to bring it home. I was emailing a friend about outlining and explained that, with this one, it feels like I have directions based on road numbers and directionals (take I-20 east, exit at US-184 south, etc.) but am driving the route without really looking at the map to see how far it will take to get to the next turn or how the road curves to get there. Driving blind but not directionless, if that is not too tortured a metaphor.
All that said, this coming week will be the real test of this method of writing. Can I find a way to focus by Wednesday night, when my back is aching and my brain is tired and my introverted batteries have been drained by a taxing work environment? THAT remains still to be seen. This could just be weekend magic, after all….