I got back from my holiday last night, after a long car ride. I think I’m going to break my self-imposed rule to leave out personal information on this blog for a (very) brief moment.
- 7 days on the shore of the Pacific Ocean.
- 17 pieces of handmade chocolates bought.
- 13 pieces of aforementioned chocolates consumed.
- 7 art galleries visited. I love sculpture.
- 4 balls of wool yarn and a bamboo crochet needle purchased.
- 2 crochet lessons during the daily church services.
- 1 winter scarf created, striped in blues and orange.
- 1 trip to Powell’s Books.
- 11 books purchased. I’m an addict.
- 1 helicopter ride.
- 2 sunburns.
- 1 giant sand castle, built with my parents.
- 1 bottle of raspberry wine purchased, one third consumed (slow drinker).
- 3 games of putt-putt golf. I was even worse than my mother.
- 1 and 1/3 great novels read (still working on the second).
- 8,000 words written on Blue Crystal.
- 1 and 1/2 chapters completed. Three chapters until the end of this rewrite.
- 75% of this rewrite finished.
Aside from the (fairly obvious) point that I had a fantastic time and was sorry to leave, these last few items on the list bring a very good point to my attention.
People who keep up with my book’s progress know that I aim for about 4,000 words a week. That’s a little over five hundred words a day. I spent lots of time last week relaxing, reading, shopping, playing on the beach, learning new things. And though I didn’t set any writing goals for myself, my progress on my novel doubled even without a disciplined schedule.
I have a hard time seeing how much energy my job takes away from me. Sometimes I consider taking what savings I have and writing full-time instead. I’m lucky; my mother is an artist, an oil painter enamored of landscapes and still life. Though she doesn’t care for my genre, she understands what I’m doing, and my parents would support me if I did turn my attention to my novel full-time. My dad’s been searching for a job in his field, and may have found a good one by a lake in a smaller town just out of state, though it’s too soon to say (negotiations being what they are). I’d love to be able to write somewhere like that.
I have a good job. I still enjoy it, after a year and a half staying here. Even so… lately something about its feel has changed subtly, like toes brushing against the edge of shoes that used to fit, like Italian bread with a woody crust.
This should be interesting, any way it goes.