Thud: On Roadstead Farm
May. 27th, 2013 11:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
leahbobetMay 27, 2013 Progress Notes:
On Roadstead Farm
Words today: 2,000.
Words total: 75,300.
Reason for stopping: P. is home from work with lasagna, it's cold, and my hands are starting to curl up from typing.
Darling du Jour: The silence ate the whole room: the twig-fire, the squeak of my stool, Heron's laboured breath. We stared at each other in the darkness, imagining colour. Imagining the world's end. Listening for rain.
Mean Things: Being not listened to by a bunch of teenagers; lies, lies, lies; an eviction that, in retrospect, is totally called for; the hammer of adult disapproval crashing down on your stupid irresponsible hijinks.
Research Roundup: Carding wool; what a baby's kick feels like.
Books in progress:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
matociquala, Range of Ghosts.
Last night's quick snack was delicious: P. made us brie-stuffed dates with smoked ham around them, and said he would make them again but next time with balsamic vinegar. I'm going to go into Photoshop and make him a Best Person award for May 2013.
The main event: YE OLDE TALE OF PEOPLE GETTING INTO EACH OTHER'S BUSINESS (ALSO MONSTERS).
Today's been a short trip back over Chapter 14, to tweak and futz and put in those missing transitions, and then a push forward into Chapters 15 and 16, and some climactic scenes later when I ran dry on those. Another thousand words or so deleted out and thrown to the wind, too, which probably explains why my hands hurt so much. If I'm going to be doing this at a hardcore pace, there needs to be stretching in the mornings.
Okay. Dinner, and a hot shower too. We'll see if there's any ancillary/cleanup stuff to do once those things are accomplished.
On Roadstead Farm
Words today: 2,000.
Words total: 75,300.
Reason for stopping: P. is home from work with lasagna, it's cold, and my hands are starting to curl up from typing.
Darling du Jour: The silence ate the whole room: the twig-fire, the squeak of my stool, Heron's laboured breath. We stared at each other in the darkness, imagining colour. Imagining the world's end. Listening for rain.
Mean Things: Being not listened to by a bunch of teenagers; lies, lies, lies; an eviction that, in retrospect, is totally called for; the hammer of adult disapproval crashing down on your stupid irresponsible hijinks.
Research Roundup: Carding wool; what a baby's kick feels like.
Books in progress:
matociquala, Range of Ghosts.Last night's quick snack was delicious: P. made us brie-stuffed dates with smoked ham around them, and said he would make them again but next time with balsamic vinegar. I'm going to go into Photoshop and make him a Best Person award for May 2013.
The main event: YE OLDE TALE OF PEOPLE GETTING INTO EACH OTHER'S BUSINESS (ALSO MONSTERS).
Today's been a short trip back over Chapter 14, to tweak and futz and put in those missing transitions, and then a push forward into Chapters 15 and 16, and some climactic scenes later when I ran dry on those. Another thousand words or so deleted out and thrown to the wind, too, which probably explains why my hands hurt so much. If I'm going to be doing this at a hardcore pace, there needs to be stretching in the mornings.
Okay. Dinner, and a hot shower too. We'll see if there's any ancillary/cleanup stuff to do once those things are accomplished.
