Neverending Nanowatch

[rinue]

In my heroic attempts to avoid writing the novel I have told myself to write, today I finished mocking up a press packet for "The Sleeping People," assembled a lamp, sent query letters to magazines, set up an appointment with a photography professor, reorganized my stationery, and added onto another book entirely. Consequently, the novel is now at 2280 words, up a whopping 26 from yesterday. In other words, I added a sentence. This is the sentence:

The king was chain smoking; a saucer of snubbed-out filters suggested he'd been at his desk for an hour or more.

I did write around 200 words of notes and spent an hour or two researching and constructing the peerage of my alternate England, as well as their families of descent, etc., which most certainly made my brain hurt and also made one of the bad guys a lot more dangerous and the king more interesting. But there is still thinking to do oh heavens.

I don't feel I deserve a thrilling status bar at this time.