Well, I don't know quite what's happened but something shook loose today and I've managed to get down 17 pages. That's after several weeks of absolute crawling along. Maybe it was taking the day off completely yesterday, maybe it was a dose of ballet. Who knows? But whatever it was I like it!
Those of you paying attention might notice that I've revised the wordcount down a little. Somewhere in the middle of whining to Keri last night, I remembered that my wordcount for the first draft of number 1 was 90k, not 100k. I write short not long in first draft. Lots of talking heads and [insert reaction here]. So I decided 90k was the aim for this one too. Somehow having 80 odd pages to go just seems a lot more do-able right now than 120 odd. It doesn't make much logical sense, the rest of the words still have to be written at some point, after all, number one is now something like 110k but for some reason, 90k is making the muse much happier. Some I'm going with that. No-one ever said writing was a completely rational process. And if they did, they were wrong. Irrational works for me.
So yay me. I might just make my target of 75k by the end of the long weekend and if I do, I've got about sixty pages to go after that. Which seems doable, even if I start freaking out about Dallas (note to self, do not freak out about Dallas). Yippee and yeehah. I have suitably rewarded myself with another dose of PoTC 3 (much Jack and Will love) and am about to follow that up with McDreamy and co. Life is good!