And no, it’s not me torching my manuscript in frustration. Not that I would do such a thing. Lately.
I’m in the honeymoon stage with my WIP, in no small part because of my new Twitter best friend, #wordmongering. I admit I’m still struggling with the overall worth of the Twitter world – many of the posts are too inane to believe – but I probably felt that way when I first started on Facebook and now I’m addicted.
But #wordmongering, now there’s a gem. The group was started by a blogger named Monica-Marie as a way for writers to support and motivate each other. The plan is to set a timer, write for thirty minutes (or an hour) no matter what, then break for thirty minutes. We all have
Which is where I got into trouble. I put a pot of black beans on to simmer in preparation for our favorite soup and cornbread dinner and started a #wordmongering session. It stretched into two, maybe a smidge more, before I smelled something odd. What can I say? I was in the zone. At least it wasn’t bad enough to set off the smoke alarm and scare the dogs.
The beans were scorched, but salvageable. Smoky flavor works in soup, right? The pan was pretty awful, but I managed to scrub it back to its original shine. I noticed a few days ago the stove needed cleaning, but I figured it could wait at least a week or so, until the next time we had guests. Instead, it got the next thirty-minute time chunk. #wordmongering had to wait.
Charred beans and messy stove aside, #wordmongering has been worth it. Just the kick I need to keep writing. I’ve added more to my WIP in the past two days than I have in six weeks. (yes, I keep track, I’m OC like that) The ideas keep coming, the plot is moving a-pace, and I’m stoked. My new #wordmongering tweeps are funny and kind and supportive.
I’ll let you know how the soup turned out. Right now, it’s time to reset the clock. Thirty minutes #wordmongering…and go!