I'm in a bit of a motivation funk these days: I want to work on anything but what I have open in front of me. This is most peculiar, as I don't normally like juggling projects all that much. But lately I seem to have the attention span of an anxious goldfish, so lots of snippets and jigjags of focus it is. Instead of writing the novel I have started and plotted out, I'm 5,000 odd words into Chapter One of a new novel… of which I only have one chapter. I can feel the stall point approaching rapidly
Also? If I could finish a scene in a sitting, I'm sure my mood would be better. Instead I'm left with a character frozen mid-frame, and I carry that mood around until I have a chance to start the narrative up again. This is okay if the scene was a happy scene. But for a scene involving a massacre? Not so great. Faster, that's what I need, to write faster.
Also, the kitten is sixteen weeks old today. Apparently, somewhere between 14 and 16 weeks signals the start of the feline equivalent of the terrible twos. He is now officially a brat. Last week he figured out how to jump up to the older cat's shelf, and he's been gobbling her food for the last week. Today he figured out how to jump up to the kitchen bench. Lots and lots of battles of will have ensued. The problem with Burmese being talkative and strong-willed cats is that when you say No, they set their ears back and yowl right back at you. And even when you finally win the fight they'll walk away muttering. Burmese. Always have to have the last bloody word.