I've been attempting to work on some short stories this week, despite the record-breaking rejection time of the last one. I've sent one to a magazine competition, and paid to get feedback, which will be valuable, I know.
Then I had two ideas I thought were great. Well, they had promise, at least. I got a rough draft of one down fairly quickly, but the other is eluding me. It hasn't helped that the 3-year old had a bout of something contagious and yukky that meant he wasn't allowed to go to playgroup this week. It was quite blow to lose two mornings of writing time, even though it was entirely my fault for crowing on Sunday night that I was about to have some time to myself. I should have known better.
Being determined, I ploughed on with writing in the evening, but every time I try to get this second story down, it doesn't seem to work, and I end up starting it again the next night. I wonder why it is proving so temperamental. Is there a flaw in the plotting that I haven't identified, or another reason my sub-conscious isn't letting me get on with it? Either way, it's not going to beat me - inspiration being mostly perspiration and all that.