And so there I was, happy as the proverbial clam… a surer sign of impending doom you will never see. *smirks*
I had 500 words to do on Book Three and a long afternoon of pure relaxation and quiet celebration ahead of me (see yesterday’s blog for the reason for said-celebration). I just wanted to meet my word quota for the day, put the computer down and spend a few hours doing nothing in the least bit consequential.
Two hours into my 500 word trek, I looked down at my screen to find I had written precisely one sentence, and a lousy sentence at that.
Usually the first 10k of a novel comes pretty easily for me. If I’ve got the plot nicely outlined, I can pick and choose what I want to work on for that day with remarkable ease. For example…
In the mood to write some lovin’?
Not a problem! I’ve got a dozen or sex scenes all ripe for literary scandalization.
Got a hankering for some banter?
Sure thing! There’s something like 30k of repartee waiting to be had.
Fisticuffs? Heart-pounding action? Drama dripping with the dramatic?
Let me flip to the end of the outline and there’s bound to be some juicy violence there.
One stinking sentence after two hours of toiling.
To put an exclamation point to my futility, I ended up deleting that one stupid sentence altogether. (It truly was crap.)
So, at that point, I quit. I walked away from the whole thing and didn’t look back. I then proceeded to selfishly lose myself in my Xbox, like any responsible, professional, author would do.
Yep, that’ll show stupid, old Book Three.
*rolls eyes, while giggling just a little*
Here’s hoping your Tuesday is a bit more productive than my Monday was.