Back in the Groove

1265 words today! I know it doesn't seem like a lot, especially considering not too long ago I was doing close to 2000, but I've been a bit stuck. I'm hoping this means I've unblocked whatever plot point has been tripping me up.

Some of that writer's block has been me just being plain lazy, but some is an honest problem in the structure of the story. That problem has made itself more and more clear the as this story draws to an end. I had hoped to just finish the ending and then go back and catch the issue in edits. Unfortunately for me, my subconscious refused to move the story forward until I had addressed my problem in some way. (It's difficult to be so close to the end that you can almost taste it and then be utterly unable to reach it.)

This meant writing a short scene earlier in the book that in no way fully takes care of what was wrong, but it at least gives me a place to start when I do the rewrite. It looks like that little band aid actually worked too as this was the first time I've come even close to achieving word count in weeks.

This next week will be key in determining whether I can keep this forward momentum going. Wish me luck!

For my fellow writers out there, or anybody who has faced getting stuck on a project, what do you do to get yourself back in the groove of things?

Oops, I went on hiatus

So, I now understand why they say balancing your work and writing life can be difficult. Between starting a new job and buying my first home, it has been difficult to carve out time to get a few words on paper every night. As a result it has been awhile since my last update to both the blog and the book.

Hopefully, now that I'm settled I will start getting back to my normal routine.

As an apology here is a brief excerpt. Enjoy.

Note this hasn't been through final edits so is subject to change and grammar errors :)

For a long moment Shea thought Witt and Dane had abandoned her. Left her to face the mob on her own. Her eyes lifted briefly to her goal, the platform, and were caught by the fierce whiskey colored gaze of the stranger.

She was caught by the arm and spun around, breaking the moment. Her eyes were wide with fear as the man who’d yanked her around raised one heavy fist, his face a mask of hatred. This was it. She was dead.

The ground shook slightly under her feet. At first she thought it was a tremor in the earth, like the small quakes that occasionally plagued the area. Then a scream rent the air.

“Stampede!”