And lo, what a difference a few days makes.
Today I have run out of steam on the deathmarch. My eyes hurt, my brain hurts, I’m altogether skittish about going near the keyboard. The very act of writing a blogpost seems daunting, since it’s the thing between me and getting back to work. If I don’t blog, I don’t march. If I don’t march, I don’t have to face the fact that the next stage of rewriting is upon us. If that happens, I don’t have to solve the next plot-problem.
This death march is all about solving plot problems, figuring out how to make the novella work on a really basic level. It’s not one of my strong points. It makes me stubborn. I hate having to figure out what needs to be done next. The only upside is that I’ve finally realised that this is what I’m doing when I find myself flailing about, so I can at least recognise my hesitance as “I’m stuck, and something needs fixing.”
So now I go to figure that out.