I can feel myself getting bored. Bored of my story. Bored of not accomplishing anything with it yet. Bored of how much is left to do (which is, decidedly, a lot).
It’s probably too much to hold in my head right now. I’m probably not familiar enough with my characters, my world, with what I’m trying to accomplish. It might help if all the songs from Hamilton weren’t rattling around in my head in a jumbled mashup of words.
In any case, it’s hard to write today because I just don’t really want to. I don’t have anything interesting to say. And I’d much rather work on some other form of writing I just haven’t discovered yet.
I think.
Actually, at this point, I don’t feel like I know what the heck I want.
(# Of words I wrote for my manuscript today: 322)