|Monoar via Pixabay|
So, now it's the last day of the month? How'd I do?
While I can definitely say that I made progress, I didn't hit every target. I set a goal of five hours of fiction (writing) in February and, as of this (late afternoon) writing, I'm two hours short. If the rest of my evening were an open calendar, I'd still have time to make my goal practically stress-free. As it is, I can still pull it off, but...
In my defense, some new projects with tight deadlines presented themselves after I set my February goal. So, while my writing didn't take a hit, my fiction did.
But progress is progress after all. I might get my two hours of fiction in before midnight, or I might roll them over into March. Sometimes you have to be flexible, and either way, I'm three hours ahead of where I was at the start of the month, in the midst of new action and new possibilities. This alone is enough to propel me forward, assuring that a fiction-writing goal will definitely be on tap for March.
Wondering what I've been working on? Here's a snippet of backstory that I wrote last weekend. It's tucked into new action but, if you know the players, you don't need current context for it to make sense.
Angel walked into her breakfast room, drinking in the warm light of the late afternoon sun. Setting her purse and keys on one of the chairs, she stepped down into the family room, where light poured into the space from between the opened plantation shutters.
She loved this house.
She and Jim had been newlyweds when he’d pulled out the blueprints one night after dinner over the tiny table in their apartment. She’d just cleared the dishes and he’d poured them each another glass of wine, promising a surprise, but when he handed her the tube decorated with a big fuchsia bow, she’d looked at him, puzzled. What kind of surprise could be contained inside a tube?
She must’ve still looked puzzled when she’d opened the tube and pulled out the rolled up plans, because Jim had started explaining almost immediately.
Stay tuned for more story...and less backstory. At least if March goes according to plan.“They’re blueprints,” he’d said. “For our house. Our new home. If you like it, that is.”