Whenever I start a new book I set up a spreadsheet with dates and word counts targets. I calculate what I need to do by when, taking into account any days I know I'm not going to be able to write. According to the spreadsheet for my wip, the last time I looked at it was 17th June. (!!!) According to the same spreadsheet my word count ought to be 35,000. Unfortunately it languishes somewhere around half that.
Not that I've been sitting on the sofa, watching TV and eating biscuits. No. The intervening weeks have passed by in a bit of a blur because I've:
- attended the RWA conference in New York
- been to my cousin's wedding in London
- marked 3092 exam papers (not that I'm counting)
- done the line edits for Say It With Diamonds
as well as tackling all the little things that life with a 14mth old involves. (How can they generate so much washing? And as for eating... My mother asked if he was eating less now it was so hot. Huh? Not so as you'd notice.)
The more time spent away away from my story, the more sure I am that what I've written is complete rubbish. The more that happens the more nervious I am of going back to it. Something of a vicious circle.
Anyway I've bitten the bullet and read through the 18000 words, and although I'm not 100% sure about the heroine's name, but am 100% sure that the story starts in the wrong place, it's not as awful as I feared. In fact, now I've reaquainted myself with the characters and the plot (which had become decidedly fuzzy), I can't wait to get stuck back in. Fingers crossed for a smooth run up to my September deadline...