A post about writing.
Even more amazing, a post about writing that isn't filled with moans and groans and whining. (Which is kind of hard to get away with, since every time I start to whine about how hard writing is, there's that annoying voice in my head going, "Well, it's not like anyone's forcing you to do this!")
Yesterday and today, I actually wrote. Fiction. More than a couple of sentences. In fact, I got chapter 6 and chapter 7 of Annest in fairly good shape. It's the first serious writing I've done since February and it feels wonderful. Last night I went to bed thinking, "So that's what I like about writing."
I've been at this too long to believe this will last forever. The trick is to celebrate when it comes. (The other trick being, of course, how to keep working even when it goes.)
I'm not going to make promises about what I'll finish when--life this year is teaching me too much about flexibility and chaos--but my goal is to have this wrapped up and ready to send out sometime this summer. How's that for a nice, loose, easygoing kind of goal?