When I first started writing my novel, my special place was on the end of the couch, by the big glass doors looking out on my box garden. I’d have a cup of something and I’d write. It was all very careful ritual. I think I’ve always had to have some sort of ritual that says ‘you’re going to write now’.
Through the novel, it was leaving work for my lunchbreak and going to the same cafe. $250 worth of coffee later …
Right now, I’m not sure what it is. I do still do my lunchtime stuff, but it’s not as effective given I have two half hour breaks rather than one full break. Life’s been rather heavy of late, so sometimes I skip one or the other or both. Somehow the writings been getting done though, just not as fast as it used to. I’m sitting at around 80k for the year, a lot down on the 140k total of last year.
This is the first time I’ve written on a Sunday for a while, and this is the first week in a long time that I’ve done a full week of doing something writing related, even if it’s just 15 minutes of messing around with Pope’s plot. My writing today had an old ritual, a pot of green tea and a blank piece of virtual paper.
I want to finish Tyson. I want to finish him fast, and get him out of the way. I’m feeling that itch that I felt when I was ready to start on his novel, but I’m feeling it for Pope. That time when you know it’s time to strike. I just have to use that to strike through Tyson and get him done.