I've mentioned before that the world can intrude on a writer. This is especially true when you work from home and people who aren't writers and don't understand the process of writing aren't hesitant to call you in the middle of your working day. Their unspoken attitude is: What's the big deal? You were cranking out words before I called, you can crank out some more when we hang up. They don't understand that writing is an intimate conversation between the writer and his muse—or his subconscious, if you prefer. When a third party calls, the conversation that has been going on is interrupted, and it's not always easy to resume.
But if you're not a hermit or a prima donna you make allowances.
Which is what I did today. I got my early writing in, 2.5 pages this morning, and then my wife and I did Sunday stuff. You don't need to know the details. We all have Sunday stuff. Just substitute yours for mine. I knew I could get back to the keyboard later. But a funny thing happened. I decided this Sunday, for only the second time in the past seven weeks, I'd let the writing go until tomorrow morning, not worry about any quota. Today I'm going to do some reading and even watch a couple hours of television.
So there.
Day 49 of writing my new novel is done.
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