A Spec in Time Series

OMG, it’s almost March, and I have not written this blog.

Books 1 & 2 are on Kindle Unlimited now, so tell your friends. It’s the little things that are getting done.

I hate that I’m still so busy settling into my new digs that I’m behind on everything. It’s what must be done to have sanity. Now, if I can find more than two sheets for my bed, it would save me a hassle.

I’ve been writing, however. Here and there, I steal a few minutes to myself and pull up my computer. I have lots of notes in my notebook that need to be put into place. I sat one night and worked on a larger section. It went pretty well, until… I got towards the end of it. I was pushing it; I was really very tired. I should have just said stop, but no. As I pushed forward to finish, I sat there staring at it. It was some of the hokiest stuff I have ever written. It sucks. It’s so sad; it’s laughable. I left it alone at that point and went to bed.

That’s kinda how I feel about this blog today and the last few. I’m pushing them. Trying to make them something they are not. No insight today, just a check-in. I’m still breathing and thinking. I’m just not able to be everything right now. I have to accept that and know I’m moving forward, even if it is a slower pace than I might wish. I really want my bidet installed, however. It didn’t work upstairs so, next try will be in the downstairs bathroom… too much information, I know, but creature comfort is important, and toilet paper sucks.

As things settle more and more, words are going into the book. The outline is solid, and all of the big sections are through their first rough ‘puke out’ stage. Two have even been through their ‘1^st big writing out’ stage. This book may be thicker than the other two. For some reason, I feel around 350 pages is the longest a series book should be. I don’t even know why that number is in my mindscape, but it feels right to me. Most of the books I love are around that mark. There is also this mind-boggling thing to me that I must get over. Pages don’t matter anymore; no one reads books, I have learned that from my lack of sales. They only read from their tablets. Some only listen; I need to work on that, but there’s that time thing, and I’m sure as hell not reading it to Mr. Microphone. He needs no bedtime story.

Mainly, just hold me in your thoughts this month. This should be the end. I almost see the floor. I’m becoming whole again.

pooh