What's the point of reading Moby Dick, then ending up like Ahab and the Whale?
The Bittern is no longer elusive. I videoed it yesterday and got it out of my system. It was sunny so I went birding and did no writing. No point in heaping pressure on myself.
No matter. It is raining this morning as a result of a deep Atlantic depression and and I wrote 1200 words in two and a half hours with a latte in between. I feel optimistic and back on track. Over the weekend I was able to make some major decisions about the plot of the book and darkened some characters in an unexpected way, which means I shall have to revisit and rewrite the first few chapters.
In the mean time, I shall keep going until I reach the end. Only then will I go back and sort out the beginning.
Shame Ahab never had that chance.
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