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Two days into my goals for the new year, and I’m sorta where I want to be. I can’t get my butt to the gym to run, which in retrospect seems so stupid because it’s right up the road but the 6 inches of frozen snow and ice morphs the 5-minute drive/45-minute/5-minute drive workout into such a chore. Thinking about it makes me tired.

On the other hand, I’ve been waiting until after the 11:00pm news to sit down and write. No TV shows, no distractions, and most of my online friends have gone to bed.  Just me, Scrivener and a cat giving off enough heat to keep bread warm.

Not that I’d eat bread before bed, the carbs would keep me up.

I’ve been setting session goals for myself, about 2K words – like you might do if you were writing for NaNo. I either pick up where I left off, or I pick a section that doesn’t yet exist. I am trying very hard to not touch anything I’ve already written, because this isn’t the time for editing. I’ll worry about how it all fits in a few weeks. After I’m all settled and the house is quiet I’ve usually got two good hours to myself,


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Just this fox. I'm a writer of horror and dark fantasy. I totally don't brag about it. The latter statement is an utter lie.
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