Motivation

I've finally decided a need a novelling intervention . . . not to keep me from my habit - but to force me to sit down and finish the darn thing! I just spent six months procrastinating and NOT writing a scene where a man had to fall off a horse. That's it. A simple tumble from a running equine. I know the characters. I know the events. I just never seem to get the time to sit down and . . . and . . . write!!!

So we examine the motivation factor.

First, I think I'm going to select someone to read my novel. I think I need someone to bounce ideas off of . . . someone who can bug me about plot-lines and tell me which character they want to know more about. (A note to all of the little voices in my head . . . none of you qualify for this job . . . so stop volunteering.)

And secondly, I may start posting a paragraph here and there again, just to keep tabs on my progress.

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The Lord Nicat gave a long suffering sigh, rolling his eyes at Lord Favre. “I told you take Brandywine,” he chided.

“And attract no attention?” Lord Favre replied acidly.

“And attract less than will be attracted, when the gray unseats you,” corrected Lord Nicat. “You continually fail to grasp that the kind of attention is as important as the amount.”

The Ladies Arisa and Brianna laughed, while Lady Danyieve looked thoughtful.

“I will vouch for that advice,” Gwen said. “I’ve done nothing since I got here aside from attract the wrong kind of attention.”

“You have caused quite the stir,” the Lady Brianna confirmed. “Especially after the row with Master Lefyre. I should be most interested in hearing the details of that particular affair.”

“And I am sure the Lady Genevive would be most interested in not having to relate such an embarrassing tale,” said Lady Arisa, her black eyes sparkling.

Gwen laughed. “I made my own bed,” she said easily. “So I have some obligation to answer if people ask about the wrinkles.”