Yesterday, sometime between waking up and about 11:00 am, a young daddy-longs-leg spun a web across my couch. The arrogance and ambition of youth: he was probably rubbing his eight spindly legs with glee, thinking of the enormous haul this would no doubt bring. Now, I've been known to leave the knotty little fellows living inside, mainly because they have a reputation for killing venomous spiders like the redback. (Not that a redback ventures inside all that often.) And they're kinda cute, in their way. I can afford to be generous when the spider in question can't hurt me, you see. But a spider daring enough to booby-trap my couch? Has to go.
Today, after October — the month that was going to be so very productive, and was, just not for writing — I got back into the novel. Only a measly word count, but words is words, and it's more than I've had for the last week. I have to admit, I could have got back into the novel a couple of days ago, but I've been avoiding it a little. Catching up with other projects. Because, lurking in the back of my mind, was a vague dissatisfaction. (It appears to be going around.)
I was stuck in a funk because I'm currently working on stuff that's too familiar, early chapters that offer nothing new, no surprises. Or so I thought. Today, Kam used what was going to be a one-sentence transition to sneak off to the local library to do a little research. Well, she's a spy, she likes to learn things on the sly, but still she took me by surprise. And now I have an entirely new scene to slide into the novel, and I'm not sure what she's about to learn, or how it's going to affect the rest of the story.
I told you I'm no good at transitions.
New links memorised: Ben Rosenbaum on finding time, Wen Spencer on choosing POV.
ProcrastinationOther Work: Created a playlist for Salamander today. 68 songs, 4.3 hours. I was a bit slap-happy, so some of the songs may be removed, but still. Four hours of songs means four hours before it starts repeating on me, and that is good.