I had a wonderful experience yesterday morning. I was explaining word choice and sentence level decisions to somebody I was critting a story for, and I sort of went, "Holy! I actually know what I'm talking about." It was a wonderful thing. I know how to write! I actually know how to write! And I can explain it to other people!
And it only took, at a rough estimate, fifteen years to learn? I guess that's not so bad.
So about 1600 words today. Four stories in the mail. And I'm getting that feeling that the book has a shape and an agenda, finally, which is always a good sign. (I say from my lofty perch as the Unpublished Novelist. Hah.) Still, this is number six (not counting all those unfinished false starts back in the day). Hopefully I know what I'm doing by now.
Not bad for a girl with a dayjob. There will be some television allowed tonight, I think.
Unless I pass out on the sofa before my sweetie finishes making dinner.
I think I'll go watch mail call and read some more Jack Vance.