The new schedule’s running to a tee. I’m down to a modest 300 word-a-day standard, but that’s more to give myself a break during the week’s busier moments. Most days, I’m plodding along at a steady pace, clocking in somewhere between 500 and 1000. I’m not about to complain about that kind of turnover for the nonce.
The routine of University is starting to fall into place. I feel that I’ve got my bearings enough to return to some kind of normality. Having been down to a skeleton-workload on the writing front for almost two months, it’s nice to branch back out into my secondary duties once again.
I’ve taken a few WIPs down from the shelves, and set to transcribing my back-log from notebook to word processor. Dusty manuscripts are being taken out of drawers and glanced through – though I’m not about to let them loose; back in the drawers they’ve gone, before they could seduce me with their siren songs. Some older short stories have even proven entertaining reads over the last few nights. Maybe I’m getting reacquainted with the arty-farty part of myself. Funny to think that’s necessary after such a brief lull, but it seems that it’s what I need.
Perhaps the only thing that doesn’t seem to be picking up in pace is my reading. The hours are all there, and I’m just as content as ever to stick my nose in a book whenever I can snatch a spare moment, but the pace of it all is still off. Slower. I’m not sure of the cause, but for now I’m just going to put it down to tiredness. I don’t think that’s far off the mark, whatever the case may be.
Dickens’ A Tale is proving a real treat. The denouement is coming fast, and I’m enjoying the ride enough to delay sleep when I really quite need it. Dickens is surely one of those writers who could turn a fledgling scribe away from the art for good. Only a few like him could cast a shadow that big over even your greatest hopes.
I’ve once again started the great pastime of scrutinising my bookshelf, and deciding on the next read. I’m not quite sure where to go next, but King’s Doctor Sleep is sounding better by the day. Though, if I get a chance, I may try to knock out a thin volume before diving headfirst towards the troubles of not-so-little Danny Torrance.
Until next week, mates. Be good.