This one’s for me

I just crossed 35,000 words on my newest novel, but some idiot part of me doesn't think it's enough. The past year has been an insane whirlwind of writing, something akin to NaNo after NaNo after NaNo (after NaNo after NaNo). So the slowness of this last book has me a little worried. About myself, that is.

Instead of staying up until 4 am writing, writing, writing, I yawn and say things like, "I'm tired. I guess this will still be here tomorrow; I'll finish it then." (Yes, I talk to myself with semi-colons. Don't you?) And then I crawl into bed and go to sleep before midnight. It's just not right.

I've tried to discover reasons for this strange behavior. Am I losing interest in this series? Are the characters becoming unimportant to me? Am I dissatisfied with writing in general? After all, it yields few rewards and steals from your time, energy, and family. Why, I ask myself, is this book not as urgent as the others?

Well, none of these questions are answerable. And besides, I can bypass even the half-hearted attempt to answer them because, knowing me as I do, this is probably nothing more than a motivational issue. So, to get things moving, I'm choosing an excerpt from "the book that has no title" and posting it.

So, let me just have a look…Ah, found one:

We'd been walking back through the streets toward the woods, but we were heading in a different direction. We'd come in from the northeast and we were headed directly southwest now. I knew the way to the farm from here. If Lamech became any more insulting, I could leave him and walk alone.

    "I can think of a hundred problems with you," Lamech said, and I thought, or maybe hoped, I detected a small note of teasing.

    "And I can think of two hundred with you," I retorted quickly.

    "Then I rank higher in your estimation than I thought."

    I stopped walking just as we entered the trees.

    "You can't believe that."

    He turned. "Why not? I'm not exactly someone you should be looking at."

    I felt my brows knit in consternation. Was he serious? "What do you mean?" I asked slowly.

    He all but rolled his eyes. "You're a princess. I'm nothing. Don't forget it."

    "Lamech, are you trying to push me away from you?"

    "I'm not trying." He turned away from me to continue down the path. "I'm doing it."