Yesterday’s word count: 0
I did open the file and look at it for a while, so it’s not as if I totally took the day off. But I couldn’t bring myself to add any sentences. I realized that, at least a little, I’m intimidated by my own goals. I have all these great images in my head–the dark night, the starry sky, the spooky house, the sound and smell and results of shots fired, the passionate conversations–and I’m afraid that I can’t do them justice. I’m worried that it’ll be dull on the page or tangled up with implausibility and that I have so many characters running in and out that no one will be able to keep track of them, including me. That my villain won’t be terrifying in the moments that he should be and that the curtain will be pulled back too soon (maybe already has been) on his Great-and-Powerful Oz quality. So many things to be afraid of.
But today I’m going to keep swimming anyway. 1000 words. That’s the goal.