Right now plotting feels like trying to solve this.

(Have I mentioned I'm no good at Rubix cubes?)

You know that part where you grimly hate your story, you seem to do nothing except stare at a word doc (Okay, pages document) and everything that drivels out of your brain is basically brain-mush? (FUNNY, THAT.) Yep, I'm here. Me and Karma Police, we're here.

*repeated banging of head against table*

WHYYYYYYYYYYYYY DID I EVER THINK THIS WAS A GOOD STORY? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY????????????????????

Fortunately, none of my alpha readers seem to actually be reading the story. So I chortle madly over my computer and make extravagant promises to myself to fix it before they reach it. It'll be GOOD, see? Only far, far in to the future. FARRRRRR into the future. Hehehe. Maybe when I'm old and gray and have fourteen cats, a fragile plant and a ferret. Then it'll be done and I can let it out into the world again. Hehehehe.

Seriously though. When I'm planning a story? I REALLY need to keep it more cheerful. Anytime I decide I need to add comic relief by throwing in a teenage marriage, things are going wrooooooong. Also, lol unintentional sketch. You'd think by marrying a guy off things would be less prone to awkwardness? No, that only counts when the character is not as GIFTED with awkwardness as mine are. It's a gift, really.

And I got Hex Hall and War Of the Flowers and Nova War and Hundred Thousand Kingdoms in the mail today, along with others, and I really really want to hole up with them and some tea and never come out no more. But I'm not allowed until this draft is done.

My life is AAAAAAAAAGONYYYYYYYYYY. *abject weeping*

Word Count

We all know I failed, why bother to go into it? I've resorted to using poetry as word padding. ^_^

Ouch...

Wordcount:

• Daily: 965
• Overall: 25,817

I don't really think I want to talk about it. In other news, Glee is entertaining. And sleep is good. MMmm, sleep.

Yesterday's celebration was clearly premature.

Wordcount: 138

I'm not even joking. *sigh* I'm so close to the end, and so easily distracted! Maybe tomorrow will be better? Maybe? *crosses fingers* If I put in a decent day, I bet I could finish this story in one day?!?!?! OMG FOR REALZ? *is fired up now*

Also, I inadvertently compared those who entered Nathan Bradford's beginning paragraph contest to tone-deaf asthmatic rats. I should mention now that not EVERYONE who enters is in that category. (Unless you like that description, in which case, more power to ya.) The 2000+ entries do contain some serious rats, though... *cough* And some stellar phenixes. Yay Phenixes!

I need coffee...

*cringes in anticipation of what Bahnree will wreak*

There is no word count today, because writing didn't happen.

I'm sorry, world.

I'm REALLY sorry, Varish.

It's just not working, and I have to be up at 6 tomorrow, and work for seven hours... I'm sorry. *will write LOTS on Saturday*

Now for another round of Snazel-Is-Annoying-On-The-Internet!

First of all, sorry. To anyone else on the internet. I get obnoxious when I'm procrastinating- I don't talk to people who might actually want to talk to me, and I pester innocent bystanders. *shifty eyes* Hopefully you don't know who you are, innocent bystanders, etc. *cough*

Word count: 1,099

Scenes: 1

Lamest, shortest tongue-lashing ever.

Always on the days when I'm inspired...

Wordcount: 307
Scenes: Hey you, yeah you. You know where you can put your nosy questions? Yeah, that's right, in the blender. In the BLENDER.

My excuses for this day include: grocery shopping, making hamburgers, making potato salad, visiting with friends, making paper boats, spreading the ashes of a loved one, being trapped away from my computer, listening to hilarious conversation, supper, breakfast and lunch, family obligatory socialization, and exiling societal exiling expectations to be exiling social on exiling Saturday's exiling evening. Meh.

I WANTED to write! *cries*

*kills self dead*

Word Count: -4,300

I don't want to talk about it.

Cue insecurity, in 1, 2, 3: implement.

Wow. I've been writing, but I'm trying very hard not to think about what I've been turning out. I'm pretty sure the characters are morphing into people I've never seen before, the style of writing is old and annoying me, and I'm feeling more and more insecure about the actual plot. Yes, there is a plot. Kind of. It just erm, is special in whole new ways. 

*cries*

And strangely enough, the fact that four people told me that what I HAD written, and was all insecure about, was good, makes me more nervous still! I'm pretty sure that was a month insanity brought helped by stress, and it's never coming back no more. *more crying*

Ah well, I figured out the scenes I have still to write, and there aren't actually too many? Some of them are massive, people get hurt and things blow up, type scenes, but I can actually kind of outline them, which is crazy. Okay, new objective! Do NOT reread, write! Write 10k or more a week. Then weep and possibly get stoned on chocolate. All right, I can do this...