Pacing myself

I know I can’t do everything at once, so I decided to section off time for each project.

Last night, after Last Man Standing, I started reading some actual fiction. I was told in no uncertain terms that I need to read more fiction. I read tons of things, but they’re mostly articles, news, blogs, or comics. This was an actual book I paid for and everything. I still procrastinated, but I couldn’t miss Tim Allen. I managed to get 1/3 of the way through before I had to sleep.

I got to the writing cabin at 7:00 this morning. Later than I like, but my work week was tiring. I slept in a bit.

Lorelei * was waiting for me and opened the window. She let Doubt, the raven, fly free. “Today is not the day for doubt. Write your story, but you must let him back in when you stop.”

“I don’t know, I mean, he seems pretty happy out there,” I said.

She put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. She looked pretty serious in her grey business suit, and with her hair in a tight bun.

“Purple Nurple?” I asked.

“Only ten times worse.”

I swore to let Doubt back into my writing space, and she left.

I whipped out a thousand words like the story told itself. I left my main character, Patty, pretty scared but safe. Someone else died, and a car got – let’s say driven without permission. This section makes me pretty happy, and I’m glad Doubt was out scrounging somewhere. Word count is up to 12,916.

When my wife woke up, I read my news on Zite and my RSS reader. There was some cool stuff about ancient beer brewing. An article about research at the Mutter Museum made my head spin. It was about finding an older, more deadly strain of cholera in a tissue sample. Story ideas are raging through my brain.

I plan on spending some time this afternoon researching cover artists and shooting off some email. I want to cook something with Tituba ** too, her long slow rise time is conducive to multi-tasking. This would be a good time for more reading. Then I need a haircut and deserve a good beer.

Tomorrow morning is all about editing my old story. Marking out time for each project always works best for me. At my age, you think I’d automatically know that. I seem to require a certain amount of hand wringing before I can get down to it.

* Lorelei is my Muse
** Tituba is the name of my sourdough starter


Filed under Muse, Writing

3 responses to “Pacing myself

  1. I like how your blog post is a story in itself. And I want a writing cabin. 🙂


    • This is my attempt to post some original fiction, without posting chapters online. New readers might be confused if the first thing they see is chapter 12 of some story.

      I get to write whatever I want, but it has an underlying theme. I wished for a writing space for everyone in a Christmas blog. Were you naughty or nice last year?


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