Yesterday I wrote one sentence. The start of Chapter Six. Today I wrote two and a half pages. Not a great output you say. I say, too. But I don’t really care.
I don’t feel like doing this. I think I do the night before. But when the morning arrives…phooey. Still, I did write something. It’s odd because I’m about to write a bunch of dialogue, which I think I do well, and I know where it’s going, but I didn’t want to do it today.
Tomorrow I’ll see if I want to do it.