Ima bad boy. Woke up ready to write, had the scene in my head . . . and don’t you hate those mornings where you get “distracted”? In this case said distraction was being asked to “look at something” which is code for “I asked you to look at this yesterday, why haven’t you?” And after I looked I offered a suggestion about something else, which led to an expatiation of tears . . . yes, I realize we (as in the family “we”) are in dire financial straights, but when you’re talking a difference of $20/month on something that’s only going to save us either $70/month or $50/month, and that still doesn’t answer the question of how you’re going to make up another $950/month, don’t start with the tears and the cry of “I’m trying to figure out how to survive”. It means one is going to play the martyr card to get their way, and I don’t play that game.
(And part of the “discussion” was over a land line that I’d wanted to shit-can 5 years ago and was told then, no, you can’t do that, my mother might use it to call. Certainly.)
Anyway, it put a bad spin on the morning. Still, I needed to stay at my story, and I did. And in doing so, I think it flavored the writing.
I only had a general idea of how I wanted the next part to proceed. I knew it was going to be moody, but I think I went into a mood of . . . despair? Desperation? It’s strange, but I can feel how the mood in the story changed with this section, and it’s all because I was working to push away any feelings I had at being pissed off over the events of the morning.
I didn’t finish the scene: that’s likely coming tomorrow. But I was surprised by my word count. I thought, “Shit, this is gonna be very low,” but over the 45 minutes of actual writing–’cause during the hour I wrote I had to do just a tab bit of research–I did 734 words, which works out to almost 980 words an hour, and considering I was doing a lot of “showing the story”, I consider it a good day.
And do we see the ghost again tomorrow? Stand by and find out.