Got past the maneating plants last night--an extra five hundred words before bed, huzzah!--and today the Presumptuous Cat and I get to sit in the big worky chair with the heating pad (windows open and a sunbeam for each of us), eat pears and carrots and ham and cheese sandwiches, and try to reach page 200.
If only I could find some focus and alertness. Perhaps if I promise myself a nice long walk if I make wordcount, that would help me get some traction, because it promises to be lovely outside today. (Dear Bear: The sooner you stop faffing about and write, the sooner it's over for the day. Yes, I know it's the middle of the book. It doesn't get any less middly for wishing it didn't exist.)
Caught myself thinking last night that I wished it was October, and this book was written and revised, and so were the other things I need to write in the next couple of months, and the convention season was over with. Also, I will be a better climber and guitar player by then, which are things I am looking forward to. As I am at the point in both where I am not quite a complete rank beginner anymore, but I am also not in any way, shape, or form, any good at all.
But that's okay. I don't have to be good at them. I have to be good at writing. All this other stuff is fun, and I do not have to be type-A about it, right?
...I still wish I was better. (Maybe having gotten just a little better at archery is making me greedy?)
Tomorrow, I get to pick up a new batch of contact lenses, and then I will be able to see clearly again. Maybe I'll get the nosepiece on my glasses fixed while I'm there.
Ahh, the glamorous life of the midlist hack.
Here. In far more interesting comment, have a couple of peregrine falcon webcams. Hartford's pair has not come back yet this year, but via tammy212, the birds in Harrisonburg, PA, have two eggs in the nest...