Working Hard or Hardly Working

I don’t know what to call my writing time. Sometimes I think that I didn’t do anything all day, but I did. It wasn’t just laundry, or washing the floors, or scrubbing out the toilet (although today I did all of these things, my apartment is small, this doesn’t take a lot of time) but I spent about two hours writing. Dreaming. I’m off world building, making things up, telling stories. It takes time the time it takes, and I’m not particularly fast.

I can say that I’ve written a novel, and I’m working on the sequel. We’ll see how that goes. 2025 is when I try to go the “normal” route and find an agent, before (more than likely) giving up on the idea and self-publishing. That would be disappointing, but I’m already just happy to have made a world.

So today I was writing, and it was the most pleasant way to spend a day that I can think of. I wish I could spend all my days like this, or at least a majority of them. Today was a perfect mix, some doing of practical things, some dreaming. Tomorrow will be less so as I have to go to my job. I only have two of my train rides free to write, but I will. It will be great. I can’t wait.