Just checking in.

Daily standard word count, here. Total for the day: 744.

Not much, but I’ve done worse, too.

I’ve discovered a new technique that seems to be helping to keep the ball rolling (rolling slowly, but hey, it’s moving): loosely outlining by chapter. I can’t seem to write an extensive outline, as I’m not sure where the story is totally going yet (and I think I would feel confined if I tied it all up neatly in a structured box like that). However, I’d been dragging my pen, barely making progress day to day, and have been constantly getting stuck when I don’t know how to continue.

So for the past two days, I’ve started bulleting the next 2-3 steps/moments/conversations/etc I can imagine happening in the story as they come to me. And so far, it seems to be helping provide a little more momentum.

Random notes for the day:

– I’m feeling extra emotional and insecure today, about everything. I cried out to my husband over the phone, “What if I can’t do this? What if I do write it and it turns out to be awful, terrible, and I’ve wasted so much of my time and your time and our money?!’

He very gently said to me, ‘Hon, it’s close to the end of the month, isn’t it? I think you might be extra sensitive right now.’ (and he’s right. the mood swings – lord jesus.)

– For people with sensitive hearts for animals, you may not want to read this next update. But I have to put it down to get it out.

Driving down the road today, I saw a small creature moving up ahead of my car. Getting closer, I saw it was a baby rabbit trying to drag itself out of traffic to safety on the side of the road. It’s back leg was dangling useless behind it. I put on my hazards and gave it cover with my car so that it could make it to the side. Then I pulled over and gently threw a sweatshirt I had in my car over it, wrapped it up and drove to the animal hospital with it on my lap. It was so small, and weighed next to nothing.

But the vet couldn’t save it. “The doctor examined it and it had external bleeding,” the nurse explained to me over the phone when I called for an update a short while later. “We had to euthanize it, I’m sorry.”

I knew that was the most likely outcome; I understand that. But the image of it dragging itself, foot hanging, eyes wide, looking so small and afraid as cars flew by it – I can’t get that image out of my head. I try to tell myself that I did the right thing by getting it out of that situation, that at least it was able to hopefully die a little more quickly and with a little less fear – but what if I caused it more fear by wrapping it in my sweater (even though I did it as gently as I could)? What if I caused it more fear by bringing it to such a foreign environment, smelling like antiseptic and dogs and cats?

I have to stop thinking about it, but the tiny, helpless creature keeps popping into my head without my permission.

– I’m going to watch some Buffy now to distract myself.


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