I started the morning off with 624 new words in the second novel and then set about reading my first draft, so I could begin the rewrite.
I thought you guys were my friends. Why didn't anyone tell me the first draft was so horrible?
I know a writer is his or her own worst critic, but man does it stink! Even I wanted to stop reading after the first few paragraphs.
So I started the second draft which, in this case, means I'm saving almost nothing and starting over. I wrote another 791 words toward that end. A little shy of what I wanted for the day, but I may go back and write a little more before going to bed, so I guess that might be up in the air.
I wasn't nearly as tired today as I have been the past few days. Guess I'm over my lack of caffeine lull. Sadly, I spent more butt time in the chair writing than I normally do for so little production. I guess I was thinking quite a bit as well. I suppose that is to be expected when starting a new project. Hopefully, this next attempt won't be so painful to read eh Cullen?
I've been out here close to six months. I am just starting to feel the crunch of a lack of time. Up until the past few days, I was writing as though I had all the time in the world and it came with a little diligence. I have no complaints with my work efforts up to this point. Now, I feel as though I have to insist upon myself to get stuff done and it feels like things are just starting to get difficult.
I'm not talking about the pressure of impending deadlines. It's rare when I get bogged down with deadlines (assuming I don't forget them entirely, which has been known to happen because I get so lax with them). I'm talking about working harder to take things to the next level. I felt I was asking a fair amount from myself before, but now I seem to be asking for a little more.
I guess, as they say, this is show time.