Just when I thought I had a handle on things, I‘m pretty sure the handle just kind of broke. Or disappeared, like a ghost hanging out with Sam and Dean.

One things I’ve discovered is that I get writer’s block. A lot. Days (ahem, like 14 of them or so) had passed before I realized I hadn’t written.

The funk, I guess.

To counteract the writer’s block, I set a goal of 500 words a day on the novel. No matter how crappy or ridiculous, I would write 500 words a day. Now, I know that that amount is not a lot of words. 


If I know what I’m writing about, 500 words or more (in a very rough rough-draft) can take maybe 30 minutes.


This is my brain:

Fifty-five thousand words make for a short book — about 200 pages. Even for a short book, it would take me (not including editing and, you know, making it make sense) about 4 months. Ohmigod four months!

This is reality:

Four short months to write a short book? Holy hell would that be awesome! Especially since I’ve been working on this one since around 2011 or so. Maybe 2012. A crap-ton longer than 4 months at any rate.

The book I’m writing is very episodic, which is ironic for me. For the most part, the television shows I’ve really become invested in are not episodic. For example, Buffy got way, way better when they stopped having the monster-of-the-week. Same thing with Supernatural.

So, I’ve written in episodes and am now stuck since I’ve basically run out of episodes.

I’ve gone back to the beginning and begun going through the manuscript, trying to tie it together and see how that works. I may not get 500 words, but I am working toward finishing it.

My 500 words (minimum) now are being directed to the blog (thus the blog post for today). I’ve dropped the ball on that, and that was not my intention.

And I still have to fix many, many things with the website. You know, learn what the hell I’m doing.

…and that unfinished Udemy course.

But it’s sunny today. Not too cool or hot, and the damned fog has moved away from us for at least a little while.

I’m drinking coffee and writing on the back porch, and life is good.

In this process of free-floating for a few weeks, I’ve come to realize that I don’t not-have a job. I just have a different one. Because of that, I have to treat writing and everything else like a job. Wait, not like a job, but as a job, because that’s what it is.

Five hundred words is nothing, but I’ve always found that I do better establishing a practice and adding to it. Whether it’s exercise (which I’ve finally gotten back to, so yay!) or meditation or whatever it is, my biggest hurdle is to get started and keep going.

So I did. And I am.

And today, somewhere amongst sunshine and coffee and bumblebees, I am writing.

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