In which I finally get off my ass

I've finally gotten some writing done after last week's workfest and a weekend spent goofing off, feeling guilty for same, and editing existing scenes rather than writing new ones. Which is great for tightening the book, but ain't budging my word count much.

But: Finally progress has been made. And now I'm back on a more normal work schedule, so the progress should continue.

Let me rephrase: Either the progress will continue, or the beatings will.

Ahem.

I'm starting to understand that there's a trick to this writing stuff. The trick is not to outline efficient little plot twists or to work away at character backstories like Joan Crawford scrubbing at Christina's baby skin to get it clean.

The trick is recognizing that creation is messy. And why should it be any other way? From making software to putting up buildings to growing a garden to making babies, it's all trial and error, it's all messy as hell, it's all attempt after attempt after attempt, and sometimes you get it right but that doesn't mean it can be made any more streamlined or efficient than it is.

To quote my friend Sara, the joy's in the journey. Of course, so are the stubbed toes and flat tires. But like Rumi says, where you are broken is where the light comes in. So maybe a few stubbed toes are worth the joy.