I did just over a thousand words today. On the one hand, that's only 1% of what remains on the way to a first draft, and given that I had today off, I should have done more. On the other hand, I felt like really taking the day off and doing nothing, but thinking about this blog sitting here made me feel guilty and so I wrote.
Also, I got past a scene that had been hanging me up rather badly. The final result may not stand as it is. It probalby won't; I'll probably change it considerably when I revise the manuscript. However, that's always been easier - and more satisfying - to me than the initial writing. So I got some momentum going.
It's 1945, and the character Frank Anderson just recruited the first member for the group he's trying to establish to help oppose the organization that is secretly trying to control the governments of the world. Little does he know . . .
I'm afraid that if I say more than that, the story - which is really serious, deep, thoughtful, philosophical, psychological, and other good stuff - will sound like a time-travel version of a TV soap opera, which I imagine might read something like this:
- While Brock rushes to the Battle of Hastings in a desperate attempt to rescue Jewell from the temporal kidnappers, Glory discovers that Slade did not die in the Zeppelin crash in 1916, after all.