I was just re-reading the extant parts of Almost Nowhere tonight, and thinking excitedly (as one does) about how people were going to react to the next few chapters, and then realizing that I’ve always had it in the back of my mind as a project I would get back to any day now – tomorrow! next week! soon! – and yet it’s been nearly a year since it was updated, and I’m going to have less time than ever to work on it for the foreseeable future, and those “next few chapters” will never arrive at this rate
Of course, free time has never been the limiting factor – I had plenty of other things to I was supposed to be doing, back when I wrote the stuff I did finish – and if I really want to keep going, which I do, it’s always possible if I just make it happen
I have various hypotheses about why I can’t just write the way I used to, but none of them are nearly as plausible as the one that says “once you say ‘I can’t just write the way I used to,’ it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy”
Last night I wrote 652 words of the next chapter, and tonight I wrote 169 more words and did some plotting. That really isn’t very much, but on the other hand, writing small amounts each day – rather than suddenly deciding to write a chapter one night and finishing it at 3 AM – makes me feel like I am doing a Real Writer thing, or w/e
526 words tonight. This is a whole new world of boringly steady productivity!
Last night I wrote 652 words of the next chapter, and tonight I wrote 169 more words and did some plotting. That really isn’t very much, but on the other hand, writing small amounts each day – rather than suddenly deciding to write a chapter one night and finishing it at 3 AM – makes me feel like I am doing a Real Writer thing, or w/e
