By now, I have more or less come to accept I will never get any actual writing done while I'm staying at my parents' house.
Of course, there are several reasons for this. One such reason is simply the schedule. With fifteen other people to weave around, I rarely get to be on my computer as I wish. When I do, it's frequently in the middle of a noisy kitchen. I don't mind that too much. Noise and life are an inevitable part of being around family, after all. However, I have long since given up on the hope of concentrating on anything even half-way productive in such an environment. In the dark of the night, when I should be able to concentrate without such disturbances, I am far too tired to produce anything of a particular quality. The problem is further worsened by factors such as my not having a desk in the room I sleep in, thus having to get my legs numb on the floor if I wish to get any writing done. Um, how about no thanks.
Another factor is more of a technical – or technological – concern. While at my parents', I am separated from my beloved computer, forced to make do with my old and failing laptop. Despite the countless hours I have put into the thing, I now find myself unable to get used to the feel of the keyboard. I have, for the most part, abandoned my loyal old companion. Yea, I am a bitch. What can you do, she's four years old. In laptop years, that equals about eighty.
As thus, I feel I can stop frowning at myself for not getting that word count any further over the whole long weekend. I mean, I did do some planning, right? That's almost more than I can demand from myself under such circumstances. In fact, I should be proud of my exceptional productivity! I jotted down notes for almost two chapters. At my parents', that is about the same as writing them at home, right?
Except I'm not writing at home, either. Where I'm free from any distractions that are not of my own creation. Where I can, at least in theory, feel free to allocate my free time as I wish. Sure, said free time may not be that bountiful at this time of the year, but it does exist. Prime writing time!
Writing time which I use on TV Tropes, AIM, and other such methods of procrastination. I know, I know. I should be ashamed of myself.
As it is, I am somewhat ahead of schedule for my primary word count goal for the year (500,000, to be exact). However, that means I am very badly behind on my ultimate word count goal. With a third of the year behind me, I need to start working a lot faster and soon if I wish to have any hope of achieving it.
The word count chart I made for my wall, intending it to be encouraging, is rather pitiful at best. One hopes it will work to shame me into writing something at least. Even little things will get me ahead, after all. There are days of five hundred words. There are days of five thousand, or fifteen thousand. I just need some less of the former, and some more of the latter. And none of those depressing days of zero words that seem to fill my tables at present.
I hereby declare that from now on, I will not allow myself to partake in any such procrastination until I have written at least five hundred words for the day. It is not much, but then I have never been good at writing too little. I hope that if I get myself started, I will continue to write, and get that word count up, little by little.
After all, I have a big, big chart to be filled with the stickers of word count bench marks. And those kitties are cute and demand to be applied to the grid.
I don't have the word count chart at my parents' place, either. The lack of kittens is the obvious culprit for my lack of productivity, not me.
Yeah, right.
I wonder if gluing kitty ears to my laptop would solve two problems at the same time.
