So much for an outline.
My writing has a mind of its own. The story has taken a turn that I didn’t see coming. This, after having the whole story laid out carefully, then scrapping it and plotting it anew. Yes, it’s evolving into yet another version of itself, and I’m pleased with the momentum I’ve built lately. I wouldn’t call it fast, but it’s steady. I’m relying on two local writer connections as accountability partners, as we meet up on the weekends to pound out words.
I’ve quit smoking, since I don’t think I mentioned that before. How’s that for a plot twist? I’ve been a smoker for almost my entire adult life. I’ve had periods of quitting before, sometimes as long as a year. But as soon as I thought I could have one cigarette, I’d have a pack. I don’t do moderation.
This time I quit by switching gradually to vaping, then tapering down the nicotine level in the juice, and then cutting down vape use. It might have been a roundabout way of doing it, but it seems to have stuck. I don’t seem to think about the hand-to-mouth action so much anymore (or, if I do, I’m filling it instead with drinking water). I’m also knitting, poorly, to keep my hands busy.
I’m reading Tana French’s The Trespasser, on my friend Briana’s recommendation. It’s a murder mystery, takes place in Dublin. Everything is “shite.” Not being super familiar with Irish slang, I had to figure out some of it in context, like gaff (home) and jacks (toilet). Made me wonder how much local dialect like that I’m using in my own writing. Would my book be difficult for a Dubliner to read? I’ll have to make a note to scan for that when I do an editing pass once I’m finished.