A Little Blah

I think the heat has melted my brain. Yeah, yeah. It's not a patch on Phoenix, but it's damn hot for the mountains. Too hot to sleep, move or think much past "Iced coffee good, ice cream better." We only have air-conditioning in one room of our little house. Fortunately it's in the office/spare bedroom. Unfortunately the spare room is kinda small and I'm starting to feel like a flippin' shut-in.

I wrote a total of twelve words yesterday before I finally said "self, you're not having any fun so give it a rest." Normally when writing is tough, it's just that way for a day or two. Last week I worked several days on the first three pages. That's not a horrible thing at all as they are much better pages. The problem is that I started getting so hard on myself that I locked up, ready to expect the worst before the word appeared on the page. Hence the no fun. Not to be all "woo-woo, airy-fairy," but it's been my experience that if I expect suckiness, I get suckiness. So yesterday I gave myself permission to stop beating my head against the wall and play. Today feels different. Today feels possible, open. So I'm pouring a giant iced coffee and getting back to the novel. Now.