It’s been a particularly lazy morning around these parts. I woke up, I read things, I dozed. I repeated the process until I’d read the latest installment of Trent Jamieson’s Death Works series, whereupon I emerged and ate breakfast and generally started pottering on the internet. In a couple of minutes I’ll head off to get some lunch and do my washing, whereupon I’ll write some things. Later, I’ll pack some books ahead of the move, then go across town to catch up with the Cthulhu peeps and play Space: 1889 a few days ahead of our usual schedule.
So it goes on Fridays, where I have the option of being lazy and engaging in crazy rescheduling shenanigans. Thursdays are writing days, the one where I blow out my wordcount in a manic enthusiasm. Fridays are about respectable, reasoned levels of wordage. They’re about reigning in my impulses and saying “yes, I know there are two more days of this to go, but you still have to get up Monday morning and go to work.”
I may be on the verge of finishing a story. As in, a story not attached to the Flotsam series, just a general kind of faeries-and-paddle-steamers-and-flatulence-and-turmeric kind of story. I have everything that leads up to the ending, but I don’t know how it ends yet. Unlike the latest Flotsam installment I’m writing, which has an ending, but I’m not sure about all the things that lead up to it.
Suspect I’ll spend today writing things unrelated to either story as a result, in the hopes that my brain will catch up and give me the story bits I need.