I have drunk the coffee and eaten the toast (with ginger marmalade yet, and lo it was delicious) and deployed the thoughtful writer face. All is in readiness and it’s time to work, dammit. Fear me, works of unfinished fiction, for I am mighty and today you will fall before me.
Or, you know, something like that. I’ve been wearing my viking PJs* to bed this week, and they make me somewhat belligerent in the mornings.
That said, I could truly use a day where one of the projects I’m working on achieves some kind of measurable progression. I’m working on a pair of drafts (1 short-story, 1 novella) where the endings are far more well-defined than the beginning, all of which is relatively unusual for me, so I’m spending a lot of time circling the stories and working out which way is the best result. This will continue until I get frustrated and just belt out a beginning. I used to be good at belting out beginnings – it was endings that confounded me – but that skill no longer seems to apply to the Aster novellas (due to back-story and set-up demands) or the current story (which is a perfectly good story , but makes too many easy choices and thus cannot be let out into the world until I find a way to make it *better*).
* ’cause someone will inevitably ask: no, I will not post pictures of the PJs. I don’t have much by way of dignity, but even I have limits.