Two hours again. The first hour went smoothly, words came, stayed, sounded OK. Then I had a break, a phone call, lunch ... the words started squeezing out like half-dried glue stuck in the tube. I persisted. Lasted the hour and fifteen minutes more. Around 3000 words. Only tomorrow will tell if they are worth keeping.
I keep telling myself it's the rhythm that counts, the sticking-at-it until the flow happens on its own. That's one thing I learned from doing NaNoWriMo one year - the more you write on a daily basis, the better it gets. It's the times when you can't write for a week or more that causes the blockages. You're not inside the story and characters anymore.
I am persisting with fp/pt, despite the fact that late in the second hour I found myself accidentally back in fp/simple past for a few paragraphs.
My reward for today's toil was to go and sit in the sun, weak and wintery though it was, and read some of my Chris Crutcher novel. It's old (published 1987 - now that is a solid backlist when someone can still pick up a 1987 book in the bookshop), but good.
I am still trying to move a whole heap of books out of my office, but as the bookshelves still have not arrived, they are sitting in boxes. What this does do is remind me that I said I would put a list of my favourites on my website. It's coming soon ... but first, two hours writing every day.