It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. In the "worst of times" category is the fact that none of you want to help me become the Rick Steves of my generation -- so I guess I'll just have to make some new friends on the road. Also in the "worst of times" category is that I didn't write enough words today. I did write, and I'm feeling clearer on the next 8-10 scenes and what happens in them, but since "enough" in my mind is 20-30 pages, it's probably not surprising that I didn't get there since I had a training appointment at noon and class at six p.m.
But in the "best of times" category, I'm feeling really good about my writing -- whether it's this book or the other projects percolating in my head. Heather (aka dear respected madam) finished the first half that I sent her and told me that it was amazing how much my writing has improved from book one (which she liked, so that wasn't a backhanded compliment), so I'm glad that all the torture of writing and rewriting and changing ideas and reworking and polishing and scrapping is paying off. Second, my magazine instructor asked me if I had considered trying to teach a Stanford continuing studies class on writing and publishing romance novels -- it would help if I actually published one, but he seemed to think that it would draw a lot of interest (and implicitly seems to think that I could do it; it probably helped that tonight's discussion was about getting an agent and I had a lot to contribute). So, maybe next year, after I sell Madeleine and Ferguson's book (the power of positive thinking), I'll put together a proposal.
The rest of my day was fine; I trained with Alyssa at noon, worked on the book for a bit, went to the CoHo again where I worked on the book some more, and then had class. I procrastinated when I got home as per usual, since I had been "on" all day, and then wrote for another hour before throwing in the towel. Now my battery is dying and I should get some sleep -- goodnight!
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