Three pages

So I didn't get the job. That doesn't mean I don't get to write all day. I still have a novel to work on. Of course, like most authors, I have days in which writing is so difficult, getting words to follow each other in a sentence like orderly soldiers marching off to fulfil some noble purpose is so painful, that I'd rather just leave the story unfinished than make the effort of will to break through that barrier and solve that problem.

That pretty much describes the last month of my authorial life.

But, little by little, that old itch comes back. The fact that my story sits in my computer, half-completed, nags at me, eats away at my sense of peace, for there can be no peace until what was started is finished.

So I spend three hours sitting in front of my computer and I crank out a sentence. The next day, I get two. Eventually I'm up to paragraphs, and then a full page. Yesterday it was two pages. Today it was three. Ninety percent of what I wrote is crap, of course, the inevitable coal of drafting that must later be refined into diamonds, but at least my story has now gotten that much closer to completion.