As I write this, it's dark outside. Far, far too early in the evening (7pm? wtf?) for it to be dark outside. Fall is officially here. Which is all right with me, because I LOVE FALL. Halloween? Love it. Thanksgiving? Love it. My birthday? Love that too, or I did for the first 29 years.

I also love the crisp weather, the changing of the leaves, the fact that I get to wear long sleeves, and pumpkin pie.

(Also? We are about 3 months out from my book release! But who is counting, right?)

At any rate, I finished edits for Agent Holly the other day and decided that this weekend would be THE weekend that I would be a total writing badass. 10k? No sweat. I'd haul out a half-finished project, kick its ass all over town, and then dust off my hands, cheerful at a job well done.
Yeaaaaah. Not so much with that.

Instead, I spent about 6 hours on Saturday staring at the same few pages over and over again. Normally when I pick up a 'dropped' project (one that I've had to spend a few weeks away from), I can reacclimate myself by re-reading and editing the pages I have in order to make the story a little more cohesive. My first drafts are heinous, after all, so there's a lot to nudge into shape. Then, by the time I get to the part where I left off, it's easier to jump back in.

Couldn't do it. After six hours, I had 10 pages edited and was in a terrible mood. I grumped to my husband, who wanted to know why I was beating myself up over a story I don't even have a contract for. I had no answer for him.

So I took the day off. And I re-read Meljean Brook's DEMON BOUND (one of my favorite romances of this decade). Watched a movie. Re-read an old project that I loved (my 3rd novel ever) but is too derivative to salvage. And pulled out a different story.

This time, I like the edits. Go figure. Is it that I took a brain refresh? Or is it the project?

Who can say, right? Either way, I'm not going to peer at it too closely for fear that it will dry up once more.