I took yesterday off. When my alarm went off (I’d left it on because I’m an optimist) I fell back asleep without realizing it, so having that permission to sleep in was the right thing to do. Still — it felt odd, wrong somehow, to not be writing in the morning. I fiddled around some, worked a little on a new short story. I was eager, though, to start the novel again.
That is, until I actually tried starting the novel again. I rewrote the section that I needed to rewrite — I’d done it all in reported speech, and it needed to be done as dialog. This was the right decision, and I’m much happier with the section now.
Then I moved on to start writing again, and realized that I was, well, not so eager. Took me a while to figure out, but that’s because I’m dense that way. The next scene deals with the death of a minor character. I’m still way over sensitive to death — mother’s day coming up is not helping matters.
So today, only 400 words, and almost all of those were just replacement for existing words. But that’s okay. I’ll take today to think about things, do some more mourning, and hopefully tomorrow, I can make progress again.