Not enough sleep. Cranky, clingy teething baby. This is the new reality, and one I have to adjust my goals to accommodate.
Also, I think I was supposed to check in yesterday. I thought the start date was the 11th. Oh well.
My goals are fairly modest this round: write 500 words a day most days a week. Like, five out of seven. So ideally, that'll mean writing before the baby wakes up, after taking the kids to school. Then there's another window during naptime (now). This is modest for me, who's used to being able to crank out a couple of chapters a week, at least.
Reading and editing are not actual goals. Neither is blogging. They're things I do by instinct now, like brushing my teeth. And pr and marketing are finally becoming less fear-inducing. This has a lot to do with just hanging in there long enough. I'm finally getting it that marketing and networking has a lot to do with just being friendly, reaching out, and being nice to people. Also, I'm not gonna lie- having access to my publisher's marketing and pr department helps a lot. (I love you, Nikki Tetrault. You are Da Bomb.)
Specific goals for individual works I'd like to accomplish sometime over Round 2:
1. Get Broken Compass, Bright Stars in to betas.
2. Turn in a rewrite to my publisher.
3. Either A: serially self-publish my space opera I've had brewing for forever, OR B: Finish the Asheroth novella.
See? Modest. Almost uncomfortably so. But I do not need to add the pressure of meeting lofty goals to raising a baby and being the sole shopper, cook, laundress, gardener, errand-runner, cleaning lady, tutor, and therapist to a household of five. Two teenagers and an infant, all at once! Gah!
The hope is that once I'm in the zone, I'll overshoot.
I actually have a real, live Asheroth model now. He's perfect: black hair, pale skin, tall but sleekly muscled. He's excited about being Asheroth, too. The problem? He's sixteen! His parents are cool and he's friends with my daughter, but still, the phrase, "Do you want to model as my insane angel character?" just makes me cringe. Oh well. Anything for story, right?