I have done no writing all week, what with one thing and another.
I have reasons. All of which, the marquis pointed out to me this evening, are almost certainly just my usual set of procrastinations in their new autumn wardrobe. And he was disappointed.
I found myself sitting down and writing a little over a 500 words just to make him happy. And all of a sudden, I can see where the new chapter I've been putting off starting wants to go.
All of which goes to so that writing begets writing and I should just get on with it.
Altogether now: Get on with it, Kari!
The marquis is pleased, and that is of the very good. While I've realised that Grass King isn't quite as a) stuck and b) dire as I'd got into the habit of thinking over the last month.
Not a lot of words, but it's a start, and I do usually take a day or two to ramp back up.
Skirt of the day: black and flouncey.
First line written today: 'Explain,' Aude said.