So, late start today, unfortunately. Especially unfortunate because I need to stop by my aunt's around 3-ish to drop off a sari blouse (it's complicated). That errand will take a good hour, round-trip, so what with showering and all, I have about three hours to work before I go. If I write well, that should actually be plenty of time to finish 5K words; if not, I could, in theory have another hour and a half when I get back. So it shouldn't actually be a problem...but it's an annoying break in the middle of the day. I'd have been tempted to ask Kevin to run it over for me, but he has seminars and hiring meetings and such today.
I'm in that odd procrastination stage where I want to type, but I don't want to type what I'm supposed to type. I have my tea, my blanket, my fuzzy slippers; I'm perfectly comfortable for working. I could journal here for pages. But I don't want to start the book. Mostly because I'm afraid I won't start it well -- beginnings are so important. If I can catch a decent voice early on, that's really critical to how well a piece turns out. If I don't manage that, I can still crank out the prose, but it tends to be a bit leaden, dull.
But nothing's really served by my being chicken about it. So off I go.
