It's been a case of writers block today and yesterday. I barely got 500 words down yesterday. Today I am simply staring at the blank screen, willing myself to write something, anything, just bust that wall down!
I know my plot. I know what happened, and what's going to happen. It's just getting from what has been (A) to what will be (B) that's the problem.
Truthfully, it's the sun's fault. My window is opened, pushed wide in order for the smallest of breezes to come in. Everything outside looks appealing. Inside means hot, clammy work. Outside means picnicking beneath large oak trees. I know which I prefer. And I also know which I can't have :(
(But that said, perhaps I'll write non-linear - just get something down, then frolic in the dying evening sun? Frolicking in this heat is stroke encouraging.)
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