I have/had a busy weekend coming up. The verb tense is confused because I wrote most of this post on Friday, and I finished it off late Sunday. So it got a little confused.
(How is it that I was preemptively exhausted for my weekend? This is not fair, I tell you.)
Monday: set goals of critiquing a few words and doing 900 words of notes. Wrote no critiques and 300 words of notes.
Tuesday: set goals of writing 600 words of notes and writing a blurb. Wrote half a blurb (those things are hard so this one totally counts!) and upped the word counter in Scrivener so I will at some point have to fill out 600 words of notes but did not in fact write 600 words.
Wednesday: wrote yesterday’s notes. Also wrote about 900 words of notes.
Thursday: since it is June 1st, set monthly goals, evaluate last month, cry. (Actually the crying part was minimal. More mentally staring at myself with disapproval until mental me cringed and got to writing.) Wrote 1500 words of notes, and about a thousand words of assorted writing that has minimal relation to my main progress but at least has something to do with a book I have written.
Friday: set goals of writing 1000 words, and 1000 words of notes. Managed it, but only because I entered a kind of fugue state and I’m not sure how good any of it actually is.
Saturday: set the goal of doing a few notes during the evening when I have a little down time, but otherwise give myself a pass because it’s dress rehearsal for the dance studio I attend and I said I’d help out backstage. (I love it, I do, but this is not a weekend for accomplishing anything else at all.)
Sunday: set no goals whatsoever. Seriously, it’s Sunday. This is supposed to be my day off. (Also there is the actual dance recital and I am physically incapable of doing anything after other than sigh in relief and massage my feet.)
Monday: projected goals: NOTHING!!! When I can think again, I will write. I’m assuming this will not be the case until at least Wednesday, so I’m going to devote my attention to my babysitting charges because it’s way more important that they not die than I make my word count.
So that was my week (plus a projection for the next couple days). Looking back, it did not suck nearly as much as I thought, considering that my body convinced itself to be preemptively tired for the weekend.
How about you? What does a typical (or atypical) writing week look like for you?