I don’t usually post progress reports on my work, because it tends to be too depressing. (Dear LiveJournal: I was going to write tonight, but then “The Sarah Connor Chronicles” came on and I forgot. Will do better tomorrow, since I always feel more writery on Tuesdays. Sincerely, A Damn Liar.)
But today I passed the 92K mark on the sequel to Blood of Ambrose. Even if not all those words are keepers, I’m starting to feel more confident about making my deadline, in spite of holidays and sweeps weeks and people being wrong on the internet (some of them me) and grading storms and real life and all the other deadly gleaming protuberances along the way.
The Sophomore Shakes (which sounds like a campus malt shop, or maybe a cover group for the Folksmen, but is really anxiety about something even less amusing) have struck me occasionally. A couple times I got out of them by muttering lines from the White Stripes’ “Little Room,” so I offer it here in the hopes that it might help fellow sufferers feeling a little lost in the bigger room. Anyway, it’s bound to be more entertaining than my word-count.