I am sitting at home in front of the computer. I am supposed to be working on my novel. All is not hopeless, I have already written over 25,000 words and just put together a prologue. Yes, I wrote a prologue, but one that will never see print in its present form. This prologue will join three other prologues I have rejected and now I am questioning why I keep doing this. All four prologues deal with three different incidences and I am ready to chuck them into my world-building file and bid good riddance. The thing is I am good at writing prologues, not so great at landing the plot plane. Why am I spending all this time with writing these things. Ugh. Language is starting to fail me. The story languishes as I build side quests. Writing is hard.
So what am I doing? Painting. Knitting. Cooking. Rearranging furniture. Cleaning. Oh, and writing prologues while editing the first thirteen chapters of my novel. Also, I am supposed to be taking care of my health.
I’d like to think all this stuff is going to pay off someday. Preparation, Preparation. Preparation. Nothing will be wasted. 2020 is going to be a very important year in so many ways. Already I am planning some big things for summer and fall. If this novel doesn’t kill me (I mean that figuratively–or do I mean literally). Stay tuned.