The story I'm currently working on is Outcast, book two of The Great Man series (the first, Soldier, is currently languishing in submission hell).
I started in earnest last week, but after three thousand words, I found myself utterly demoralised. It was three thousand words of utter crap, and I hated it. I HATED IT. I ended up scrapping everything I had written and tried again.
The rewritten prologue was much better. I still don't think it's good, but it is good enough to permit me to continue writing. I'm not happy with what I've got thus far, but hopefully that's just me holding myself to impossible standards and it's actually fine.
After four writing days I have just under seven thousand words. It is my hope to reach ten thousand by the end of this week. If I was up to snuff, I would have twelve thousand words by now, but I seem to be slowing down in my old age (joking. I'm only old for a Hollywood actor). I really miss the days when writing three thousand words in a day was easy for me.
Still, it's good to be to writing after all that editing, and submissions preparation, and website updates, and all the work surrounding writing and publishing that isn't, in fact, writing itself. If only I could split myself in two and and one of me take care of the surrounding stuff, and the other me can handle to writing part.
I've had worse ideas, let's be honest.
Right, I have to get to work now. I hope you're all well.