Hello, blank page my old friend.

I wrote the following over the course of yesterday.


I have gone to my study, closed the door, and am waiting for inspiration.

Hoping for inspiration. I know it doesn't always, or even usually, work that way, but sometimes it does and when it does, the imaginative quality is usually better.

But most times, I have to slog it out. Make a start.

So...I want to have a 2nd chapter ready by Tuesday, and I have a few pages yet to go, so I'm still waiting....

So far today, I drank coffee and read the Bulletin.

Went to the store and wrote out some checks and dropped off some books.

Came home and mowed the lawns.

Ate lunch.

Finished off the monthly comic orders.

Napped.

Read off some sections of the New York Today.


So far today, I have NOT written any fiction...


Finally, around 5:00, I had a kernel of an idea. Which turned into a page of fiction. Just before bed, I added one more paragraph.

So I'm 2 pages into the second chapter, and I want at least 4 pages ready for writer's group, which is on Tuesday.

This is too slow a pace, really. But I want it to "feel" right, so I'll accept this pace. Otherwise, I'll force the issue by writing Something, Anything.