Hard Work

I fixed my writing goal on the new novel at a thousand words a day. Yesterday it took me four hours to write that much, but today I did the same thing in little more than an hour. That's reassuring, as it looks like when I get into the story, it flows--except I'm not really into the story yet.

I spent all day yesterday in the illusion that book club would meet today, and bracing myself for the event. I guess it was just an April fool's joke on myself, because today is the first instead of the second Friday in the month, and the meeting isn't until April 9th.

Anyone who thinks writing isn't hard work may not believe it, but yesterday afternoon I was so worn out that I lay down on the sofa and slept for four hours (beside Gretchen, on her blanket). And now, having just written for an hour or so, I'm exhausted. It's like a long tramp in the woods, without the exhilaration of fresh air and exercise.

I'm keeping a hard copy of the first draft in a loose-leaf notebook. I guess I should also back it up on a CD, which I'll do when Jed shows me how again.
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I haven't abandoned the cleaning, it's just going slower than molasses in January.