Remember how I said I'd be finishing my synopsis this month? Well, I actually meant May. I'd be finishing my synopsis in May. Not April. No, because April ends in two weeks and I am pretty much still at the two and a half page mark. So yeah. I meant May.
I thought I was making progress. I had this great transition that I absolutely adored, and still do adore, but I just couldn't string anything together after it so finally it was time to back up and try it from a different way. That's what I do. I've probably said this before on this blog but when I hit a wall and can't find a way around it, I back up and try the same scene from a different angle, sometimes even a different character altogether.
So that's what I did. I worked on it while I was sitting in the waiting room at the Subaru dealership last week. They were doing an oil change and switching the winter tires for the all season tires. And while they did that, I was stuck in a little room with no Facebook or television or dogs or laundry or anything else that required my attention. So I wrote. I wrote until they called my name.
Then I stopped.
Haven't been able to get going again since.
Do you think they'll mind if I come and sit in their waiting room for a couple hours every day until I actually do accomplish something? Because I'm seriously considering it.
Of course, my failure to achieve my set objective has consequences. Consequences I levied upon myself, mind you, but consequences I nonetheless must enforce. Otherwise, I will lose all credibility with myself and we can't have that. If I don't know that I mean these threats when I make them, then it's all over. It'll be anarchy.
Which means that I will, in fact, be reading nothing but Jane Austen novels until the frakking thing is done. Which means that I will, most likely, be reading nothing until the frakking thing is done. I really don't like Jane Austen.