To someone lost in the desert, a few drops of water would probably be something of a miracle. I know how they feel.
As I wrote last week, I've been lost in the writing desert, wandering in search of my missing mojo. This week, I found a few drops of water. Not a river, not a stream, not even a brook. Just a few scattered drops, like the light rain that does little more than rearrange the dirt on your windshield. In my case, it was a grand total of 253 words. Like that person wandering aimlessly in the desert, I find those few drops, those 253 words, to be a miracle.
I still haven't found the few thousand words I need to finish my novel, but now I need a few thousand minus 250. Whoever thought I'd be so darn pleased with a weekly writing total of 253 words?
As I wrote last week, I've been lost in the writing desert, wandering in search of my missing mojo. This week, I found a few drops of water. Not a river, not a stream, not even a brook. Just a few scattered drops, like the light rain that does little more than rearrange the dirt on your windshield. In my case, it was a grand total of 253 words. Like that person wandering aimlessly in the desert, I find those few drops, those 253 words, to be a miracle.
I still haven't found the few thousand words I need to finish my novel, but now I need a few thousand minus 250. Whoever thought I'd be so darn pleased with a weekly writing total of 253 words?