Finding my way back to the way forward.

I am not at work this week.  Instead I am chained to my computer furiously working on A Violet March.  So far so good.  I've hit my word count goals for each day and have produced new scenes (versus editing old ones, attempting to find my way back to the way forward).

The last scene I wrote this afternoon was a discussion between Sam and her dad.  Very seldom do I add details and atmosphere in the first draft (because I rarely have a quiet space to write), but today I found myself placing water bottles on the table and floating dust in the air.  All of which helped underscore the emotion of the scene - a father telling his daughter what to do and not enjoying it much.

I've been writing seriously for six years.  I have learned the most only in the past few months.  Writing doesn't come naturally to me.  Sentences don't flow.  What I see in my head isn't easy to put down on paper.  But I love the process, love creating worlds, love the characters.  I dream about the stories I'm not writing, wish that I had more time to delve into their worlds and bring their tales out.

I told my husband today that I would make an excellent full time writer.  Now I just need to figure out how to make that happen.  Cue Cinderella.