Up early to do something that’s going to be a pain in the ass. Nothing earth-shatteringingly (did I just make up that word?) problematic, just annoying. There should be a rule that if you don’t want to do something badly enough, you don’t have to. Except that rule wouldn’t really work for writers, because then I could say, “I don’t feel like writing the entire middle of this book,” and, under the, I don’t want to do it rule, that would be fine.
Hey, it’d be a fast read. No one could complain about pacing.
But today has nothing to do with writing. (Or the three year old — don’t worry — she’s fine:) And it’s snowing again, which wouldn’t be a problem if I lived someplace where people knew how to plow the snow, drive in the snow or not act like a few inches is a major nor’easter.
OMG — I am cranky in the morning. Must go down coffee now and write a bit to calm myself. I’m halfway through a novella and it’s flying along. It’s nice to write something short for a change. It’s nice to write something that flows easily. I’m not sure if what’s flowing is working but I’m having fun. That’s got to count for something.