Surviving Another Week

Wow, a lot has happened in a week. I celebrated my birthday with friends on Friday. Then pulled two 3k writing days. Yesterday I spent the day curled up in bed battling some sort of stomach bug. I’ll spare you the details, but safe to say it was pretty gross.

I’ve been hovering around or slightly above par most days and I have mixed feelings about it. On one hand, I’m not getting burnt out by writing 3k+ words every day. On the other hand, when I have days I fall behind that means I don’t have nearly as much buffer.

My novel is starting to come together. Though I’m starting to worry that I don’t have enough material to make it stretch to 50k. Not without throwing in another subplot or three. I suppose this is where being a pantser starts to become problematic. Oops.

Amelia nearly ran off to India this past week and was very narrowly talked out of it. Mainly because I did not want to write a novel about a several month long boat ride. I know very few nautical terms and would end up spending half of my writing time doing research. If you’re following along from last week, I am no closer to discovering if Amelia is or is not in love with her best friend.

There’s still time though. At least, that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself.

At the age of six, Eliza was certain of two things. The first was that she had stories to tell. The second was that she had no talent for illustrating them herself. Talent or no, she still wrote and illustrated her first book, one that should be located and locked away if only to prevent her parents from embarrassing her terribly by showing it off alongside baby pictures. Now she spends her days writing stories that she isn't embarrassed to show off after a little bit of polishing.

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