Squirrel!

I did not have the best time of it, writing wise, this week. I met my only true goal, which is to carve out a minimum of an hour each day and write. I found that time and more this week, but man-oh-man was I distractible. The cat, the phone, the scuff on my sneaker. Who am I kidding, I can’t wear fucking shoes when I’m writing. But you get the idea. Frequently, I am in my underwear and a t-shirt. What!? It’s my process. Save your judgment.

From my own experience and that of others, gleaned from reading articles and watching interviews and casting runes, the middle part of a project is the diciest. People get lost. They get frustrated. The white flag of surrender goes up the pole. I believe part of my own mind will try to sabotage me the minute the going gets tough. Nothing specific is “getting tough,” but I have begun to ask myself in internal whispers, “You gonna be able to land this goddamn plane, Wood?”

The answer is yes. I have made a commitment to myself and to you, my readers. Okay, reader. Fine, I’m screaming into a crater. Might as well hurl the laptop I’m writing this post on into the Grand Canyon. But my lack of notoriety does not change the commitment. I met my goal this week, even though my brain had me contemplating my fingernails, the logic behin QWERTY keyboards, the meaning of l—Is that tin foil on the floor? I have met that goal every day since I began. That ain’t nothin’, friends. Okay, friend. Fine, nobody.

I believe I have a good story on my hands. Whether I will be able to tell that good story well remains to be seen. It’s also completely besides the point. I am enjoying the fuck out of this. I will land the plane. I make no promises about it being on the runway or even dry land.

PHOTO: The cutest squirrel ever (and that’s saying something) thanks to Joe Breuer at Pixabay.

PROGRESS REPORT: 46,600 words. Currently working a scene when the main character has a good, clean flirt with the love interest. Finally!