Frustration

So up until 4pm today, this had not been a good writing weekend. A couple of pages eeked out like yanking teeth from my head with pliers on Friday. Nothing really yesterday, which is okay given it was Lulus. Today I sat down at the computer about six times this morning and the fingers wouldn't move on the keys. Ditto this afternoon. When you're sitting at 311 pages out of 360, that's pretty darn frustrating. Usually the end of the book picks up speed for me. But nope, missy muse and friends were not playing.

Until 4pm. At 4pm, they suddenly went yeehah, let's go. Since then I've written thirty pages. With an hour off for Grey's anatomy and another half hour or so for dinner. Plus a bit of emailing. So now I'm sitting at 341 pages, 19 pages or so to go...just starting the big climax scene and then I have two or so aftermath scenes to finish. Maybe more than nineteen pages but there's no way I can keep typing much longer today. I have to work tomorrow and my brain is getting fried. If this is full of typos, then that's why. But I can feel the story boiling inside my head, just waiting. I haven't had that sensation for most of this book. I'm pretty sure if the muse has just decided to wake up a few hours earlier, I might have finished this sucker today. Instead now I have to go to bed and hope it keeps flowing tomorrow.

For a writer, well, for me, this is one of the most frustrating feelings I know, being so close to the end, with everything working and not being able to just keep going. Thirty pages is a LOT in one day. The most I've ever written was 32 and that was starting a lot earlier in the day than 4pm. So argh. But yay, the end is sight.

And did I mention argh????