Please allow me to explain.
I work a weird schedule each week...my days off are Sunday and Tuesday. So I'm off 1 day, work 1 day, off 1 day, work 4 days. It makes it difficult to get into a flow. And because my hours are flexible...I work some days later than others, it makes it hard to try and schedule things I like to do, or find me time, or find time to spend with the people who matter to me. It is one of the reasons I get so quickly and easily overwhelmed, and despite my therapist's wonderful and true suggestion to wind down earlier in the evening, it is just something I cannot do if I am going to fit in the things I want and/or need.
Like human interaction.
Like watching movies or TV shows.
Like writing.
The poetry writing has been welcome, because I can generally finish one in rough form in a night...unless it's a long form piece in which case 2 or 3 days are required. The thing is, I have finally broken the blockade that has kept me from writing fiction, and yesterday I got some 2000 odd words into a short story I have been mulling over in my head for a long time. It was a joy to write, and while it is not done, it was wonderful to hear a voice I missed speaking to me.
As I am writing this post at work, you can guess is slow, and it is. I have multiple computers updating, so I am able to write this. And I figured I could write more of the new story, even if it was only a few hundred words, and attach them later.
Instead what I've gotten out is nearly 1700 words, and I am not sure if this is a new story or a much later scene in the story I am writing. One paragraph implies it is a different story, but that can be edited out without damaging anything. Thus, Julie is uncertain what she has, only that she has something important to the main character's arc.
And so it goes.
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