|15 May 1989 Dilbert, by Scott Adams|
In the past week, I've managed to produce a few thousand new words toward the novel in progress. (No, I'm not ready to talk about that.) Mostly my time went to:
- Recovering from the realization that a character in the novel had available a cleverer ploy than what I'd already written; rewriting to take that factor into account; reworking my outline for the ripple effects.
- Researching an unrelated story (likely to be a novelette) that also demands to be born.
- Wrestling inconclusively with details of that story, all requiring resolution before I can commit Word One to actual text.
- Preparing a guest post for another blog, supporting a colleague.
- Promoting my last novel out the door.
- Chasing an intermittent computer problem(s). It's not easy to write a novel when the mouse driver spontaneously uninstalls, and when the mouse cursor randomly vanishes.
- Chasing a completely different intermittent problem on my wife's computer.
- Fretting about the spate of attacks (from Ukraine and France, mostly) upon my authorial website. If eyeballs and the firewall app can be believed, the site remains secure. (I hafta wonder: Why me?)
- Doing administrivia for that website and an offsite/cloud backup service.
- Surfing altogether too much, in horror, for the latest news from the campaign trail. (I won't as much as hint at any intention, preference, or leaning. My fiction and blog are wholly apolitical.) I just can't look away ...
- Surfing, somewhat more productively, to stay current with science news.
- Staring at a night sky in which, due to overcast conditions, last night's spectacular, viewable all up and down the East Coast, Antares launch turned out not to be visible.
- Other diversions, digressions, distractions, and detours that doubtless, at this moment, slip my mind.
- And most recently ... knocking out this post.