always have a writing plan

So you're stuck on a page (or in a tree) not sure what to write with the time you've carved out for yourself...

What's your plan? Watch goat videos for hours? Does Cinnamon make it down from the tree?!

These thoughts can be overwhelming especially when you're tired, or switching your brain from your job or other tasks to focus on writing your book.

I think a plan is so helpful here, and maybe not the kind of plan you're thinking. Yes, I'm a converted outliner (a must), and I like to leave myself a couple of notes or questions at the end of each writing session to get me going when I pick it up again.

But that's not the kind of plan I'm talking about. Because, for all your diligence, on outlining and note-leaving, there will be times when you'll sit down to write and have...NOTHING.

Aren't the words supposed to, like, flow? But your brain is all...AS IF.

While stepping away to walk or read or eat a snack or exercise is sometimes an option to clear your mind, sometimes this is the only time you've got.

So, you need a plan.

Step 1: Pick 3 favorite songs, queue them up.

Step 2: Hands to the keyboard.

Step 3: Start the music and start typing, you can't take your hands off the keys or they'll BURN

You may not need all three songs to find your groove. But you'll find it.

And, if not, there's always ice cream.

My songs today (all Lana): Art Deco, Ride, The Next Best American Record.

Lastly, a snippet of today's writing as a result of this process. 70,000 words into Night Soiree and just polishing the ending for Luna.

Also, but never lastly, thanks to my sister for her abundance of goat photos!

---

“You can’t change your mind, unless you want me to change my mind about the Light Summoning charm and leave you lagoon bound for eternity,” Della seethed. She was now standing an inch from the merlagoon, despite Orb’s protests.

“You can’t do that witch!” Sage snarled and stabbed a webbed finger into Della’s chest. “I’m not taking anything away. I cannot allow you to have three pearls.”

Orb sighed. Della was not listening to him. Though he doubted Sage would be any better, he stood in front of her, and put his hands on her green shoulders.

“No, not even for Orb,” Sage turned away, then stomped towards her Vine. “How can this mean nothing to you, brother? Those spirits will die when they leave the lagoon water. They are ours to protect, and we’re handing them over without a fight.”

“The meaning is not lost on me, Sage,” Vine’s deep voice was steady. “This is the cost of our freedom. The freedom for all of Nyxville. I think the spirits would find that to be a worthy sacrifice.”

“But we don’t even know if this will work! What if we give the pearls to these ungrateful wretches and they don’t defeat the Lord?”