On Sunday, I made myself a lovely smoked salmon, cream cheese and chives omelet. I vacuumed. I cleaned my bathroom. I made avocado and crab soup for dinner, followed by shrimp tacos. I wrote…nothing. Not one word. I had the file open for most of the day, but the words didn’t happen.
On Monday, I took the dogs to the vet. I went to yoga. I made my bed. I wrote… oh, a little. A few hundred words.
Today… a few hundred more. And I realized that part of why I’m so stuck is that I’m fighting the inclination to turn this story into a big story, a book instead of the short story it was intended to be. So tomorrow, I’m going to explore my beats some more. If this wants to be a book, maybe I should go ahead and let it be a book. Meanwhile, I’ve got 4600 words written on a short story and the stage is set but the action hasn’t even begun.