A Tangle of Trees, Philosophical Musings, and 113 Pages

I finally have my lunch hour back!  Now I can write more, which is good because last night only produced two pages.  I actually did more work on the story than that...but I realized that I needed to go back and add a scene and a few snippets, so I had to backtrack and make notes of that.  Then I got a huge epiphany about a key scene that is coming up, so I had to jot those ideas down so I wouldn't forget them.  So it was actually more productive than the page count would indicate.

I find myself going back and forth.  When I have a rough writing day, I wonder what the hell I am doing trying to write a book.  When the words flow and everything "clicks," everything seems possible and within reach.  Sometimes these feelings follow quickly on the heels of the other.  It feels a bit bi-polar.

I think that the book is affecting me more than I initially realized.  Last night I kept dreaming that I was trying to make it up this hill.  At first I was on a bicycle trying to pedal up the steep incline and failing miserably.  So, being a clever girl, I ditched the bike and tried to proceed on foot.  However, gnarly trees then erupted from the earth, their branches thick and knotted, intertwining and barring my passage.

My tangle of trees.

As I struggled to claw my way through the tangled limbs, I kept hoping that someone would come and meet me half-way.  Perhaps offer assistance.  No one did.

Maybe that is why I am documenting this--to see if anyone will meet me half-way.  Or perhaps it is so someone traveling behind me might avoid some of the snares that I encounter...maybe I am meant to be the one to stop along the way, retrace my steps, and venture back to meet another traveller.