Regular as clockwork: I’m two-thirds into a note- and aside-pepperedriddled first draft and bam! I’ve got an idea for another story.
I’m not worried about my current script because it’s moving.
Nor am I worried about being distracted – once I’ve racked up my minimum page-count for the day, I’m a free agent.
I think… I’m just glad I’m still getting ideas. I’m still getting turned on by the potential of new stories, and still loving it when the creative juices my writing mojo I can just make shit up.
(This post, I suspect, was brought to you by four straight days of no rain.)
