My plan to write today was blown to smithereens by the baby who refused to sleep while her siblings and I were doing an hour's writing (the problem with having a teacher-mother is that strike days aren't non-stop fun. The five year-old had to go to school and we agreed we'd work for the morning, too, so he didn't feel so bad). In the end, I cobbled together about twenty minutes, and wrote 198 words, most of which will be rubbish when I look at them tomorrow.
I won't feel bad about it.
At least I wrote! At least I'm writing nearly every day. I'm loving having plotted a bit more this time, as I find it easier to dip in and out. It's much easier to write a scene when you know exactly where you're going. However, I'm reserving judgment on whether this level of plotting is better than winging it until I finish the first draft and see if the overall effect is a bit patchwork.
Chapter 2 is under my belt, though, and I'm so excited each time I sit down to write. This is what writing is all about. Success is secondary when you love something as much as this....but I still want to get better at it.