Writing and Sick

I didn't write today.

I did write for hours on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. It made me happy! It also created this weird alternate state of being, in which I kinda blinked when reality intruded.... like eating, or letting the dog out, or speaking to the Husband or the Boy. I may have been in the room with them, but I really was in the 30th year after the Apocalypse, somewhere in present day Kansas.

I stopped writing at a really exciting place yesterday. I am about to write a new scene into the first book, one that will finally create the climax I've been missing since I split the original work into two. I had to do some reading (and rereading) to find my zone (where I can effortlessly write that world instead of struggle to write the world), but I did, and got myself set up!

So, why did I stop? Well, I had to eat, and interact with the Husband and Boy... but mostly, because I knew what happened next. I had written my "one true sentence" and therefore could stop. (I am a devotee of Hemingway. Sorry.)

But today? I am sick. The scene is simmering, which is a great place for it to be, but it will have to simmer for at least another 24 hours... and maybe until Wednesday morning.

writing

This will be a really short one. I have been reviewing chapter after chapter of the book. It is fun to get lost in the world again. Fun to rediscover things. Fun to read things that were added later on, and not recognize them.

I have figured out a really important scene to add, and how to resolve better the end of this book-- remember that I had cut the original work into two. I am excited to write it. I just wanted to leap in and start writing it today... but I knew I had to find the thread of this world again.

I enjoyed the 'snow day' today with the Boy... but darn if I didn't think "Dang, now I won't be able to write this morning"...

Attention has been paid, and I am getting work done... yay, me.