The new routine


I'm dividing the day in half at the moment - new creative work in the mornings, and in the afternoons I work at getting stuff already written out into the world.

So this morning was CROMOZONE. It's a tough book to write. I presume it's digging away at some deep psychological seam in myself, though I don't care to know what it is. Step by step I'm pushing my lead character through an intense and unpleasant series of events, testing him to the limit, and so myself. Just one small scene this morning, 390 words, which left him shaking. And I'm so engaged with him, with the book, I'm wiped out and shaking myself. Rendered useless for a couple of hours.

Brought myself back into shape a bit by pruning the roses in the garden. It's odd, these physical effects of writing. Going through a wringer.

For my afternoon task I've been reformatting my play - a comedy, albeit a black one. A little light relief.

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