Last week was the first week of my renewed commitment to writing a novel. My aim was to complete 14 hours of writing during that week (and every week from now on).
I managed 9.5. And I'm pretty happy with that. Obviously, I missed my mark, but the last few months I have struggled to make 10 hours; actually I have struggled to make 5! So 9.5 is great.
In addition, I was very happy with the quality. Especially on Sunday morning, while The Jingo was sleeping off some food poisoning (which I seem to have contracted today - hello, porcelain train!), I churned out a 2,400 word short story in 2 hours. Something I don't think I have ever done. A second draft will determine whether it's worth flogging off, but I think it will be.
This week, as I have already mentioned, is going to be a toughie. I might not make the heady heights of 9.5 hours. The Ashes are on and I have three other appointments that clash with study. Oh yeah, and I have the shits.
Does it sound like I'm already making excuses?
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