I got a fair amount done yesterday. More work on the collaborative novel outline, some work on several other projects, and quite a bit of time combing through my old cancer blog posts with the interests of building an index to my cancer blogging, and pulling together an outline for a potential nonfiction book based on my blog posts.
What I didn’t do yesterday was lay down significant new fiction wordage. This despite a need to continue developing the outline, and a short story commitment which is due shortly. My right brain didn’t want to cough to life for that.
This is what I often call WRPA, or “writing related program activities.” Things which are a part of writing, but are not drafting or editing fiction. WRPA is important, and I used my time well yesterday. But it still bugs me that I did not commit new fiction.
I’m under so much stress right now from the cancer issues, and it leaks into my writing work. I despise and resent the disruption. Still I recognize it as part of my own processing.
Weirdly enough, even though I was resisting drafting fiction due to cancer stress, I spent considerable time with my old cancer blog posts, starting from April, 2008. Lot of cancer stuff, and a lot of stuff about
This feels like it will never end except in my death. Which is true, in a sense, and possibly quite literally so. Meanwhile I write and keep writing. Or try to. Even when I can’t write.
So, yesterday, I caught up and I fell behind. Today, who knows?