A strange thing: we actually did something at work. While I get over the shock of that nonsense, that shift in affairs, it gives me time to bemoan the fact that I’ve not done any writing at all today.
Well, that’s not really true. I got up this morning, well before the others, and had planned out the full scene block by the time we left the house. I’ve done something, at least. All that I’ll need to do is get a cup of something hot (after dinner, of course, I still haven’t eaten), sit on my own in my room – or maybe downstairs at the dining room window – and basically write the mess that will be the first translated page of my efforts from this morning.
I’m so glad that the previous chapter is done. My celebration usually involves a happy dance, a quick cup of tea, and then a successful round of printing off the official thing and getting it stapled and into my Big Blue Folder.
Big Blue Folder is getting heavy now; it’s a collection of every chapter that I’ve completed already, and it’s really strange having it all in a physical format together, rather than flung into different notebooks and scribbled down in stages amongst other turgid material, or kept away on a Word document that only I know about, that never feels like it truly exists in the real world. There, the book is theoretical; here, I can see exactly what I’ve done for the past seven years.
Onto tomorrow. Hopefully there will be a bit less work this week, but we can’t always get what we want.
I’ll just have to cram it into the evenings like usual, and hope for the fucking best.