So the words aren't coming at nearly the pace I'd like. Between work, family time, and at least two or three other really excellent excuses, my self-imposed deadline to finish the narrative is looking all but impossible at this point. Labor Day? What the heck was I thinking? It's not as if I can just dip into a magic memory jar and suddenly these experiences write themselves onto the page. It takes time to go back, to think, to remember, to put myself back into the first person.
Still plugging away. Still working to finish the story. It's just moving along at a somewhat slower clip than I'd hoped at the beginning of summer.
