there isn't any sweetness in the dreaming

I got six pages today...not the sixty pages I would have loved to have written (which would be physically impossible, since that would require writing fifteen thousand words and my all-time max is like eight thousand), but they were six hard-earned pages, and I'm feeling good about where I'm headed. However, as expected, last night's wine extravaganza didn't help my productivity today, so I abstained tonight and am going to bed at the relatively civilized hour of one a.m. I know, I'm so disciplined.

So I got up at ten this morning, made some sausage and eggs with leftover potatoes for breakfast (totally winning), and contemplated my manuscript while sitting in the kitchen. However, I realized I was never going to concentrate with other people around, so at one-ish I left the house and snuck away to a coffee shop, where I wrote for two glorious hours by myself with some New Orleans iced coffee (note: not as good as coffee in New Orleans; this is the price one pays for being a jetsetter and experiencing things in real life). It was delightful, but as I said before, it was hard-won, and so I came back to the house at four and took a break by sitting in the sun on the deck and finishing a book I'd started the other night. Then I went out with some of the other writers for pizza (there's a pizza place with a gluten free crust here, which was totally winning) before coming back, doing a bit of work for the day job (boo...I told them I'm not going to check my email again until Thursday, so screw them), messing around with the internet for a bit, and trying to get back into the story.

But there was no forcing it tonight, so I spent a couple of hours talking to some of the other writers. I was trying to convince one of them to go to India, and the end result may have been more impactful in terms of convincing me that I really just want to pack up my laptop and head off for parts unknown and find fun places to live for a couple of weeks or months at a time while writing novels and doing some awesome food blogging on the side. That sounds far better than living in the marina and commuting three hours a day, doesn't it? And given how expensive San Francisco is, it could actually be cheaper...

...but now I shall smack myself on my knuckles, remind myself that I have a book to finish and I always get crazy (er, crazier) when in the throes of the second half, and that I can't make any rash decisions when I probably want something else entirely (and was even telling someone just a couple of hours before that how much I like my job). We'll see if that memory sticks in the morning; for now, I must sleep. Goodnight!