Oh my. Today was not a good day for writing. I severely underslept last night (certainly not the fault of my gracious hosts--I should have gotten up to pee, there's really no way around it). All I could do was stare at the screen. Today was also a busy day of flitting from place to place in Berkeley and meeting up with friends, so finding a coherent block of writing time was tough. But there's really no excuse--I did sit in a cafe for three straight hours. Nonetheless, when I got to the minimum wordcount, I stopped in the middle of a sentence, not knowing how it was going to end.
I don't think it's totally coincidental that this comes after a couple days of the writing going well. For the last few days I've had a strong vision of the scene I was working towards. Now that that scene is over, my life feels empty somehow, devoid of purpose. Well, not my life, only my novel. I do have more ideas for scenes I'm looking forward to writing, but now I'm back on the long slow path building toward them. I spent much of today looking for things to write about that would get me some wordcount without having to really know what's going to happen next--Captain Pitt had a dream. Maybe it was prophetic--who knows! Then the ship got caught in a big storm. Lots of action, not much plot.